#it finishes before the plot point of the following chapter (which I think is lance of ruin?) comes to light - it takes about 2 weeks

[tiny-cloud-of-flowers]

(last one i promise) (SORRY FOR ALL THE ASKS) for felix!! how did you come to see catarina as a sister ?? whats your favorite thing to do together when theres free time ??

(IT’S ALRIGHT, ANYONE CAN ALWAYS SEND AS MANY ASKS AS THEY WOULD LIKE TO!)

Felix: “Taking some time off from your usual expeditions, are we? Well, it’s good to see you in good spirits.

To answer your first question, that.. took a bit of time. You know what I was like back at the academy, after all. I didn’t actually get to meet Catarina until partway through the year, since it was only then that we ended up in the same house, but.. I’ll admit she caught my attention pretty quickly. She’s never trained as often as me, but we ended up arranging to spar together a lot, and that’s really how things got started. I’d say we have quite similar ways of fighting, so that common ground helped us to build up a connection, and then.. we started talking about other things than training, somehow. I suppose it was just- refreshing, to have someone around who had such an outside perspective. She may have roots in Faerghus, but the fact she wasn’t raised there, or raised to uphold the same typical values the Kingdom prides itself on - or even anywhere else in Fódlan - meant that.. there’s a lot I felt I could talk to her about, in a way I just couldn’t with others. Also, she wouldn’t hesitate to give me a piece of her mind, or say what she thought about things. Not many others were like that, so it stuck out to me.

By the end of the year, it didn’t feel like we had developed the same dynamic I have with my friends - and I wouldn’t necessarily say it was any worse or better, it’s just.. there was something different about it. Maybe it’s because it was just something shared between the two of us, not a piece of a larger group setting. A closeness that almost seemed more natural, or permanent, than just friendship, even despite the much shorter time we’d actually known each other. What I mean by that is that.. Rina and I can talk about anything, and it’d never feel like what we had could just suddenly fall apart, no matter what we actually said to each other. In fact, I don’t know if we’ve ever fallen out in a serious way; we may bicker a lot over little things, but it’s always more playful than anything else - never as tense or able to suddenly escalate as it could be with others. So, that’s.. really where the whole “sister” thing started.

Oh, and for your second question - we still train together, a lot. Catarina prides herself on being a difficult opponent to strike, and I’m very familiar with that by this point, but it doesn’t make it that much easier to get a hit in on her. Sometimes it can feel like I’m fighting a mirage of myself when she’s more on the offensive, which.. is a strange feeling, but I think it’s good. She also keeps trying to help me with the magic side of things, which usually results in her taking a pile of books out of the library and dragging me somewhere to go read them with her until one of us gets bored. ..I’ll admit that seeing her own spellcraft in action has helped me gain a greater appreciation of magic than I used to have, but I’m still not close to her own proficiency. Then again, I know I’d overpower her if she wasn’t using magic, so me having greater physical strength can still be more useful than her balanced and more agile style. And, the magic I do know how to cast is already far above what most swordsmen could use or expect from me, so I still have the edge in most combat situations, even without being an expert.

I.. hope that all of this answers your questions. Feel free to stop by again if you want to ask more.”

[grayintogreen]

Normally I’d do WIP Wednesday, but I’m 4k into the next chapter of OUADYA (yeah...) and aiming to have it finished by Friday. I’ve been cleaning and work is exhausting and writing is my wonderful escapism. And I’m holding my one-shot WIPs hostage until after I finish my Critmas Project, which is so. close. to being done.

ANYWAY. Instead of WIP Wednesday, I thought I’d give you guys a little peek behind the curtain of that fic. Some of this I’ve said in asks before and some of it is new information you might like to know.

The Nein are currently level 8 (Cree is level 11). They average one level per arc and were actually a level higher when they faced the Iron Shepherds. By the end of this fic, they’ll be level 13. 

Aside from the Iron Shepherds, no plot arcs from the original campaign appear in this fic. It’s all new material.

The sequel features major plot points from the original campaign, adjusted for the Nein’s increase in level and the changes to the narrative made by the Nein over the course of this fic, so while many arcs will be familiar, they’re far from just a remix. 

The sequel will be called you can’t deny high noon.

There are nine arcs in once upon a damn-you-all, and we’re almost done with Arc Three. Arc One was Wrath (the Iron Shepherds), Arc Two was Joy (Zadash), and Arc Three is Pride (Hupperdook). Arc Three will end after chapter eighteen and chapter nineteen will start Arc Four: Vigil (which will cover the Nein’s adventures in Nogvurot.)

The arcs are as follows: Wrath, Joy, Pride, Vigil, Guilt, Disgust, Fear, Surprise, and Sorrow. 

Molly’s Rend Mind is only 4d10 (he gains a new d10 every time he wakes up an eye and started with 2d10 with Ira). He one hit killed the rogue in the Sour Nest because it was a less controlled Rend Mind and he was really, really pissed. Don’t think about it. 

Polymorph is not a concentration spell in this universe because I said so.

Sehanine has two forms. She just likes her child form best, because it’s funny. 

The Clockwork Hounds are based on the Cowboy Bebop crew. Lance (Spike) is a Drunken Fist monk/College of Whispers bard, Fayne (Faye) is a gunslinger/thief rogue, Obsidian (Jet) is a gunslinger, Eda (Ed) is an artillerist artificer, and Auto the Clockwork Beagle (Ein) is Eda’s automaton “familiar.” (Also yes that means the “Syndicate” are College of Whispers bards. Just mull on that one.)

The backstory used for the Tombtakers is the one detailed in this church takes no conversions, so if you’ve read it, you know what Cree’s deal is, but if you haven’t, then it will be revealed to the audience as it’s revealed to the Nein.

[lukeios]

The plot holes of Eldarya

Hello wonderful people of Eldarya fandom! Along with some other players we have prepared a little something for you: The list of all the plot holes in the first season of Eldarya. 

The list has over 2000 words in total. I am so, so proud of us and I would love to give special thanks to @aokane-eldarya who wrote probably over 1/3 of this by herself! Everyone who participated is tagged, so make sure you check out their blogs! 

And of course, before we start: this is not an attack on Beemoov - it’s merely a critic of their writers. More under the cut. 

@kyriechristeeleison

- Chrome surviving Leiftan's attack. Leiftan isn't an amateur killer and wouldn't let him stay alive.

- Game said Leiftan never kills children and yet the next episode he tries to kill Chrome.

- Chrome saying he contacted Leiftan, event though the other episode informed us he "summoned" him. 

@cintanna-rants

- A plot hole between Valkyon's spin-off and the game. In the spin-off, he dreams about his mother even though in the game he couldn't have seen her at that point. 

- During the Leiftan & Erika vs Lance fight in the last chapter, Lance acts like he thinks Erika is just a simple human, yet in chapter 26 he fainted precisely because he discovered she was an aengel and thought he knew why Leiftan wanted her.

- Leiftan “sacrifices” to tell Valkyon about Lance’s weakness (a neck injury). None of this is mentioned in the last battle nor ever again. Why did Leiftan sacrifice for then? What was the point of making him betray his pact with Lance and risk his life if that info doesn’t matter? 

@aokane-eldarya

- Leiftan threatens Lance to kill him, as well as all the other members of his race, if he hurts Erika: not only does he do nothing when Lance kidnaps Erika (while we have the proof in episode 30 that Leiftan is still able to subdue Lance), but Valkyon is the only other dragon in existence.

- By extension, he didn't react as expected (if we refer to his personality) to the story of the potion.

- Leiftan who is the demon of the crystal: he was able to act normally while having a part of his mind threatening the Oracle, which is absurd (nonrespect of the principle of the cost of use of magic ). During his imprisonment, Miiko talks about the fact that the corruption stopped suddenly and Leif explains that he stopped because Erika suffered from it. If Leiftan had had the power to stop the corruption caused by the Naytili crystal (and therefore, by someone other than him), he would have done it immediately since he knew from the start why she was suffering. In any case, it was not Leiftan who stopped corruption, it was the use of the Fenghuang flute.

- Leiftan tells Erika that he did it all for her. But the fact is that he started acting before Erika arrived on Eldarya and she doesn't think it's strange. 

- In the spin-off, Leiftan says he will respect that Erika doesn't follow him, suggesting that he will pursue his goal. In the end, as soon as Erika holds it against him, he decides to abandon his projects and accept his "mistakes". The funny thing is that it's been weeks, even months that we know what Erika thinks, he could have given up before.

- Episode 30, the "Lance VS Erika and Leiftan" confrontation. The writing suggests that Lance doesn't know Erika's race, which is wrong. It will also be noted that Lance didn't think of using the dragon spell that had allowed him to imprison Leiftan the time he came to destroy the crystal.

- In episode 15, the history teacher tells us that the daemons refused to sacrifice themselves.

- Then thanks to Fafnir, we learn that, in reality, Lilith and her supporters were for the sacrifice, Dagon and his supporters were against; they killed each other.

- Episode 30, Erika says that she and Leif must sacrifice themselves because their ancestors refused to sacrifice themselves.

- It will also be noted that hundreds of dragons sacrificed themselves for the Blue Sacrifice, but that it lacked just the equivalent of a daemon / aengel for the vegetables to be nutritious.

- Erika who doesn't remember that Dagon was one of the daemons invoked by Naytili

- Leiftan had a redemption. When he died, there was a white feather. Leiftan should have fought with his angelic aspect and not only with his demonic aspect.

- Depending on the situation, the terms aengel and daemon are used either to denote the same thing or to denote two different things.

- Lance refers to Erika and Leiftan by saying "the aengel and the daemon", even when Erika says to her "I am a daemon".

- Ezarel fights with a foil, a training weapon that cannot hurt. He uses it as thrusting and cutting weapon whereas it is only a thrusting weapon.

- The Guard sends civilians to unprotected villages; Lance just had to go there to use them as leverage.

- Lance, who is experienced, attacks by arriving by sea, a disadvantageous position because exposed, to arrive on a beach in a basin with only one narrow exit, with then the optic of crossing a meadow also exposed. The Guard decided it would be funnier if it got stuck on the beach itself.

- Lance is ready to negotiate: he agrees to allow the Guard to evacuate the faerys on Earth (The same faerys he wants to destroy). The famous faerys which are not there because evacuated in the villages. It will also be noted that suddenly the total population of Eldarya is reduced to only the inhabitants of the Guard.

- Lance donated ingredients for two gates: two gates to evacuate hundreds of people. I thought it was too expensive per person.

- Lance sent Enthraa, a mermaid who can't get out of the water, to kill Erika and Miiko ; Erika and Miiko thought it would be a good idea to be within the range of Enthraa.

- In episode 30, the hamadryads meet around the ancient tree of Yvoni. The same tree that had burned and the remains of which had been removed.

- One day, Leiftan and Lance released a monster who swallowed all the knowledge of the library. We still don't know why.

- Everyone knows that the dragons have sacrificed themselves. Even Lance. It was while reading books in the library that his hatred developed, suggesting that there is information that we don't have about the Blue Sacrifice. We still don't know this info: Lance just seems to blame the faeries for letting the dragons sacrifice themselves, nothing else.

- How did Lance and Leiftan become partners? We don't know. Why does Leif say that without him Lance is nothing? We don't know.

- How did Ykhar know that Leiftan was a traitor? Where did the hostage go?

- Ykhar and Chrome who tell an experienced killer that they are going to report him.

- Chrome who says that Leiftan manipulated him to join him whereas, in a previous episode, Leiftan reminds Chrome that it was he who called him.

- Some members of the Guard speak several languages, but no one can read the instructions on a package of pasta. And since Erika seems to have no idea where the language is located, it must be a package of alien pasta.

- Ewelein was to give us a gift. We are still waiting.

- The faerys had recent humans books, like Twilight. Ykhar didn't know what television was: yet, her favorite book was Barjavel's " The Night of Time", in which we talk about television.

- Oluhua said that it was not possible to use Leiftan's blood to transfuse Feng Zifu, without explaining why. She was not on Leiftan's list of traitors, so we still don't know what Oluhua knows.

- Miiko announces to us that there is a ritual acting as a lie detector. She must have forgotten its existence when she had to find the traitors of the Guard.

- Erika learned to understand the familiars. She quickly forgot about it.

- Erika is described as a high school student in the CGU. In the story, she is around 23-24 years old since she finished her studies.

- the Guard claimed to be able to detect dragons. Lance and Valkyon are proof that this is not true.

-  Nevra, as a vampire, is able to smell blood from a small cut. Her sister was unable to smell the blood in Ykhar’s room.

@lukeios

- (Death TW) Ykhar's death and her body looking pale after 2-3 days in the room. Total disregard for research. The body should be in stage 2 of decomposition.  

- The clothing and armors. Dressing a warrior into an armor that shows stomach - the most vulnerable part of the body - is somehow inappropriate, even for a fantasy setting. If they had other clothing used for battles OR the game would be pure fanservice - it would be ok.

- For some reason Lance's sword from The winter illustration seems like too much. It looks too broad, like a piece of a metal wall. It doesn't seem like it would be useful in a fight - it seems way too hard to use that thing than it would be necessary. Mind you - if something like this is happening in a fantasy setting, an explanation is mandatory. Is the sword extremely light? Is it made of a material that is changing shape? This point isn't exactly only about the sword. Beemoov keeps on throwing things at us without a proper explanation and if the explanation is even present, it's not explored enough. 

- Our pet is killed in episode 30. Does it change anything in the page section of pets? Is the exploration frozen? I don't think so. 

@waywardpeachworld

- Stealing food from Earth for many years without a way to preserve it. Not making a connection with any humans because "they are evil".

- Miiko told the MC there are humans in Eldarya who are searching for her. Where did they go?

- The potion fiasco. What happened to all the photos of the MC? Aren't her parents wondering "who is this girl who looks like us?" in the albums?   (according to an anon, the potion was able to erase any proof of her existence on Earth. No photos were left. Thanks, Anon! )

-They can make very powerful potions that literally erase somebody from the memory of everyone who had known them in a different realm but still cannot make a “potion” to preserve the crops they steal. 

- Ez's crimes were mentioned once and never again. This information seemed too important to just be left alone.

@glassmoonfortuneteller

- How at the beginning of the game, they mentioned us several times Erika’s special eye color (purple with golden light) and how this was an important clue to know what kind of faelienne she is. It’s never mentioned again even after we found out she’s an aengel. Apparently it wasn’t that relevant.

- How the guard has a portal to Earth near the HQ facilities but Erika never seemed interested in it to go and see it for herself since she arrived at Eldarya, especially since she was determined to know everything about the portals when she still had hope of going back to her world during the first episodes.

- When Lance kidnapped Erika, she finds out Enthraa is a traitor and that she’s working for him. After she’s rescued and goes back to the HQ, she doesn’t say this to the other members. They found out about it only when Enthraa ambushed Erika and Miiko in later episodes and gets killed.

- How food was rationed and limited at the beginning of the game, but in later episodes this doesn’t seem to be a problem anymore.

- How Lance said he found out about the sacrifice of the dragons in the library archives, but during Erika’s history classes in the HQ they said there weren’t any records about the blue sacrifice and all they knew was passed down through generations through oral traditions and tales. If that’s true, then Lance and Valkyon would have known about it since they were kids with adults telling them about the stories of the creation of Eldarya.

- What happened to Marie Anne after she was captured and purified of the faerie blood? She’s not mentioned again after that.

- Humans in Eldarya were mentioned once, and that’s it.

- How Erika is characterized as a very kind and empathic person but didn’t seem affected when she found out Ykhar was killed.

- How Leiftan was the one who killed Ykhar since he was with Erika and the other guard members in Memoria the whole time.

- Alajea’s fear of water is not a thing anymore.

- Why Erika took Valkyon leaving with Lance as a betrayal, she was right there when that happened and saw that he did it to protect her. 

@nelielombrelune

- Miko told us dragon’s ingrédients were necessary to open portals, but later she finally said those weren’t really “dragon” stuff but they called it like this because, you know, everything there is a mess.

- Humans were supposed to be a threat on Eldarya (Miiko mentioned secret societies like Illuminatis, Templars or Freemasons but we’ve never heard about them anymore)

- There is no real food in Eldarya and the Guard has to open portals to Earth to steal foodstuffs for Eels survival. They don’t know how to cook and eat raw pasta in the firsts episodes but a few episodes later they throw tea-parties where Karuto & Erika bakes crepes and cakes. 

- In episode 20, Leiftan says he's been waiting for Erika for years. Except that he does not seem to know who she is, nor her species or where she comes from, how she came here, nor her connection to the Oracle...

- When we’re in Ashkore PoV he said his ancestors killed the daemons

- Once upon a time we had to choose a “job” (infirmary, library, and I don’t remember the third one), but we never hear about it in the next episodes.

- On the illustration where Leiftan saves Erika from falling off the cliff, his wings are white, he’s got only 2 and his horns have disappeared 

- In episode 30 Lance calls Erika “the human” though he knows she’s an aengel

- What about the war ? Lance killed his brother, Erika and Leiftan sacrificed themselves and then what ? Did Lance just leave after all the time he tried to destroy Eldarya ?

- “In episode 29 Miiko (I think it was her) says that they will have enough water for everyone because they filter rainwater but in episode 19 someone has said that it barely rains in Eldarya...”

@momiyi-chan

- Three enemies of Eldarya (Triades, Illuminati, and Templars) are mentioned but never make any appearance. It is said the Templars are trying to get MC to rescue her. Where are they?

- Until episode 20 the Guard was looking for the pieces of the crystal, that were scattered on Eldarya. That was never mentioned again. Crystal became irrelevant.

- Who taught Naytili to corrupt the crystals? Leiftan and Lance were very interested in learning that skill, but it was never touched again.

@hsakurausasuke

- Mary Anne is still rooting in prison. It's like she disappeared.

@velleitxs

- Erica cannot decide if she is an aengel or a human with the blood of an aengel

@susymei 

- Episode 15, we never learned the consequences of telling or not telling the Guard, that Ashkore was stealing food in the HQ. 

- Ashkore doesn’t kill Huang Hua because Erica likes her, and yet he wants to kill her few episodes later. 

- Episode 26. We can kind of flirt with Lance. There is some tension on the cliff (if you pick right choices) and he protects us from the heat of the volcano. The episodes afterward completely forgot about those choices - it’s like Episode 26 never happened. 

@valethari

- The episode in which Gardienne becomes a mermaid to go back from the Kappa Island to the HQ: She almost drowns and her S/O saves her and carries her up the stairs to the infirmary effortlessly and princess-style. When Colaïa was the one in the dungeon and Karen, Alajéa and Gardienne tried to bring her to the sea again, they said she was SO heavy because her tail is pure muscle, and between THREE people they had a lot of trouble carrying her.

Well, that was pretty long! Thank you for reading all of those! Have a nice weekend guys and stay healthy <3 

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 3: Remember Me

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Y/N finally moves on and Harry returns from the dead.

*this chapter contains sexual content*

Word count: 8.9k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

.

.

.

The ringing of swords echoed among trees. Y/N raised her blade high in the air and blocked her opponent's full-powered attack. Her eyes widened as they met Lance’s, and her opponent took the chance to kick her in the knees. Her sword fell away from her grip and she collapsed onto a pile of snow.

“Stop!” Lance shouted, marching toward them. The Queen’s opponent – the new commander – bowed his head to Lance as Y/N propped herself on her elbow and laughed. “What madness is this?” Lance asked the commander. The man quickly got down on his knees beside Y/N to help her up, but she refused to take his hand and reached for her sword.

“We’re in the middle of training.” She winced. Lance saw a red drop fall upon the white snow, and she forestalled his concern with, “It’s just a scratch.” The Commander, in seeing that he’d cut the Queen by accident, stood rigid with his jaw tight and hands behind his back. “I asked him to give me his best. He was just following orders,” Y/N said dryly.

Lance scoffed. “This is insane, Y/N. You can’t just tell people to go ahead and hurt you. You’re a queen.”

“I trust Commander Robert,” she said, giving the commander a dismissive wave. Lance could tell that Robert could not wait to be excused; he bowed his head and walked off as fast as he could, probably thinking the Queen had lost her mind. And maybe she had. Too bad she was Lance’s problem now.

Lance took a step back as she thrust her sword into the snow and leaned onto it to stand. He was ready to catch her when she fell, but she managed to keep her balance and gave him an apologetic smile — one he’d seen so often in the last couple of months; at first, it’d been a sign of hope, but at this point, it only concerned him.

They both stood under falling snow with bare heads, and Y/N was only wearing a thin blouse with trousers and boots. Lance wondered if growing up here had given her immunity to the cold or she simply didn’t care if she'd freeze to death right on this field. As she put away her sword and wrapped both arms around herself, he concluded that it was the latter.

Lance cursed under his breath, shrugged off his black fur coat and threw it over her shoulders. She didn’t protest and let him wrap her up as her gaze stayed fixed on the red streams trickling down her fingers.

“Let’s go,” he said, holding her by the shoulders, and together they staggered back to the gate.

It’d been ten months since Harry had gone missing. At least that was what Y/N believed. Lance and everyone else knew that there was no way Harry could still be alive.

At first, he’d been convinced by Y/N that there had been a possibility that Harry had been kidnapped, that someone had known about him and Y/N and wanted to use him to hurt her. And so they had waited every day for a ransom letter or for Harry’s headless corpse to be delivered to the castle. But it had been ten months, the folks were still protesting, villages were still burned, and Harry’s life had become no one’s concern but Y/N’s, Lance’s and Jo’s.

Lance didn’t know how long Y/N would continue this hopeless search. For the first couple of weeks, she would be so eager when the search team returned at the end of the day even if there was no news at all. But lately, she hadn’t bothered to ask about what they’d found or hadn’t, for she knew she’d only receive the same disappointing answer.

Nothing.

No matter what she said, Lance knew that deep down she knew they were looking for a ghost. Harry would never come back to her, and it was only a matter of time until she allowed her heart to accept it. It was easier to cling to false hope than face cruel reality and move on. Lance might be the only one who understood what she was going through. He’d held Daliah’s cold corpse in his arms and put her into the ground himself, and yet he still couldn’t accept that she was dead. It had taken him years to get over it. So he was going to try to help Y/N to do the same.

She hadn’t completely gone back to the person she’d once been, but she’d kept her word and didn’t abandon her people. The court had got used to their new Queen, and even though there was no more court gossip (that Lance knew of), Lance could not lower his guards.

Their friendship was the only good thing that came out of this mess. He and Jo would take turns staying with Y/N overnight. Recently, it’d been him more than Jo, and Y/N had let him sleep beside her on the bed. He would hold her every time she had nightmares, and she’d told him that she’d been having better sleep because she knew when she woke up, he’d be there. This wasn’t what Lance had signed up for, but the more time they spent together, the more they grew to rely on each other.

“I’m sorry,” she said to him as they sat by the fire and he was bandaging her hand. There were bruises all over her bare arms and he was trying not to look at them. Although he hadn’t seen it until today, he knew she’d been taking out her anger in those ‘training sessions’ with the new commander, and she’d always come back bruised if not bleeding. He’d never asked her why.

But he didn’t have to.

“I just wanted to feel something,” she said.

He glanced up. The warm firelight illuminated the right side of her face. She’d been watching him bandage her hand and as he stopped, she met his eyes with a tight smile. “Don’t look at me like that, please.”

“Like what?” he asked, his mouth curled.

She tilted her head. “Like you think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he said. It was true. “I’ve been you.”

She frowned a bit; he didn’t know what it meant. In silence, Lance proceeded to bandage her hand, and once he’d finished, she didn’t take it away. So he pressed his lips together and gently laced his fingers with hers. “Treating pain with more pain won’t help,” he sighed. “You’ll exhaust yourself at one point and you won’t be able to get up.”

Y/N pouted, then nodded.

Silence ensued.

There was a shift in her expression and his heart started racing as a hundred thoughts coursed through his mind.

“Two more months and it’ll be a year,” she spoke, her voice wavering. The sadness in her eyes was like nothing he’d seen before.

He reached for her other hand and brought it to his lap.

Suddenly, she began to cry.

First came a sob and then tears started spilling out as she hung her head so he could not see her face. “He’s not coming back, is he?” Her voice broke. “He’s dead. He’s dead and...and I’ll never get to see him again. I’ll never get to say goodbye. I didn’t tell him I loved him…”

Lance chewed the inside of his cheek as he slid off the chair and kneeled before her on the carpet, still holding her hands. He didn’t tell her to stop crying because it was the only thing she could do. He let her cry until she couldn’t anymore, then released her bandaged hand to cup her face. “We can continue the search for two more months, and then—”

“No,” she cut him off. There was a heavy pause. “We should tell his family.”

Lance stiffened. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She didn’t seem like it. He waited for her to change her mind, but she stayed silent.

“All right,” he replied dryly. “But…”

“What?”

“His family don’t live in Theros, do they?”

“They do. What’s wrong?”

“Calanthe. She’s closed the border to us, remember? No letter from Isolde would reach Theros.”

Y/N’s face twisted for two seconds and soon relaxed. “Harry had two friends living in a village outside Isolde. I also invited them to our wedding.”

Our wedding. Lance allowed himself to be temporarily happy about those words before he said, “You want to ask them to deliver the news for us?”

“I want to invite them to the castle,” she said. “I want to tell them in person, and well...treat them like royal guests as an apology for having kept the news from them for ten months.” Then came a sigh. “That’s what Harry would want.”

“Let’s do that,” Lance said.

And Y/N responded with a broken smile.

.

.

.

The next day, Y/N ordered her men to stop the search and announced Harry’s brave sacrifice to the court. They had a quiet feast as a farewell to the soldiers who had lost their lives in the attacks. Lance saw no point in celebrating deaths, but since Y/N wasn’t going to attend, he had to go on her behalf.

He drank just enough, waited for when most of the courtiers had been too drunk to remember their own names and snuck out with two bottles of ale.

It was almost midnight. He knew Y/N was awake and had expected to see Jo with her in her bed-chamber. But then he found Y/N sitting alone by the fire, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her chin on top of her knee. She didn’t flinch when he opened the door.

“There you are.”

He froze, shut the door behind him and gave her a tentative grin. “How do you know it was me?”

“You’ve got heavy footsteps,” she said, smiling a bit as he sat down beside her.

“I believe you told me that once. When I proposed to you in the garden.”

“You call that proposing?” Y/N snorted.

“Find yourself a better betrothed then,” he replied jokingly, expecting her to say, ‘fake betrothed,’ and feeling quite conflicted when she stayed silent.

He handed her a bottle of ale, and she took it without question.

“Where’s Jo?” he asked, watching her gulp down the drink. “I brought two bottles because I thought she’d be here.”

Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand like a man. Lance couldn’t help but laugh. He liked it when she didn’t have to look regal and just be herself.

She returned him a smile. “Since when did you and Jo get along?”

“That’s what the ale’s for,” he said. “Jo’s less cranky when she’s drunk.”

“Right.” Y/N raised a finger. “But since Jo’s not here, this is all for me.”

“Hey! Share.” He lifted the other bottle above his head when she tried to reach for it and they fell to the floor, laughing uncontrollably.

Once the laughter had died down, they sat side by side, staring at the fire and passing the bottle back and forth in silence. Lance let himself get lost in his million thoughts. He was reflecting all that’d happened in the past ten months when Y/N broke the silence with her devastating sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He scrunched up his face. “For what?”

“For all that I’ve put you through. I’d been focusing on my own loss that I failed to realize that the people around me suffered too.” She glanced down at his hand on his lap. “I never asked you how your leg was or what it was like to lose a finger.”

“You did.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah, you just don’t remember.”

Eyebrows knitted together, she cocked her head to the side. “I don’t believe you.”

“You have to.” He beamed. “I’m the only one you can trust around here.”

When she smiled at him again, it took him everything not to run his fingers through her hair and lean in for a kiss. He knew it was wrong. She was still healing. But it’d be a lie to say he’d never thought about kissing her as he watched her sleep.

He’d never felt this way about anyone since Daliah, and he’d been with so many women since. What was it about the Queen of Isolde that had turned him to this? He was only here for the sake of his kingdom. He wasn’t supposed to grow feelings.

Lance jolted with a start when Y/N shoved the second empty bottle back in his hand. Seeing how shocked he seemed, she gave a tired smile. “I was thirsty.”

“And now you’re drunk,” he said, smirking.

She shook her head. “I am not. I can drink until morning!” When she declared that with a finger pointed to the ceiling, he knew she’d overestimated herself. He let out a chuckle and took her hands to pull her up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She mumbled something in response which he couldn’t make out. It wasn’t until he’d tucked her in and pulled the blankets up to her chin that she repeated, “Will you stay?” with her fingers around his wrist.

“Of course,” he said. Lance never said no to that request, even though it was never his name that she called in the middle of the night. It didn’t feel very ideal to get back to the feast or be alone with a headache, so he might as well stay here and pretend this meant as much to her as it did to him.

He lay on his back. She lay her head on his chest. And as the ale began to take effect, he drifted off to the rhythm of her soft breathing.

.

.

.

Lance awoke when it was still dark. He couldn’t feel Y/N’s warmth beside him anymore.

His head was pulsing and his eyes stung as he propped up on his elbows to find her sitting on the edge of the bed. She was facing the window. The curtains left a small gap for him to see that it was snowing outside.

“Y/N?” he spoke, scooting closer. “Y/N, was it another nightmare?”

Slowly, she turned back to him. He exhaled in relief when she smiled, tired but awake. Dahlia used to sleepwalk, and Lance used to fear that while he was asleep, she’d just jump out of the window in the middle of the night. Y/N had never sleepwalked; she had trouble sleeping.

She said nothing and crawled to him. He rested his head back on the pillow, putting his arms around her as she rested her chin on his chest. She glanced up; the blue of her eyes looked almost grey in the pale moonlight. She placed her palm flat on the left side of his chest and her face twisted with wondering.

“Your heart,” she spoke softly, “It’s beating so fast.”

“It’s because of you.”

Lance didn’t realize he’d said that out loud until she asked, “Me?”

He swallowed dryly, his heart racing even faster as he caressed her cheek. He’d done it once the other night. She didn’t know; she’d been asleep.

“Go back to sleep, Y/N,” he said. “You won’t look as pretty on the throne if you don’t get enough sleep.”

She snorted at the remark, “Are you calling me pretty?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I am not. You’re just drunk.”

But so was he.

Neither of them was thinking straight. He wished he’d stopped her when she pushed up and her face was right above his. He should force her away by her shoulders and tell her this was a terrible idea, that he wanted to kiss her so badly but not like this. Unfortunately, his heart had overpowered his brain, and the next thing he knew, they were kissing.

He’d kissed her once before. She hadn’t kissed him back since it'd only been for their charade in front of the court, and Lance had felt nothing back then. This kiss, however, was something else. This kiss burned. His whole body was ablaze as his fingers knotted in her hair and he flipped them over so he was on top. She gripped his shirt and pulled him closer, her legs wrapped around his waist as she moaned softly into his ear. He was hard. For the first time in his life, he was embarrassed about it. It was probably written all over his face, because she giggled and drew him in even closer. They didn’t say a word as their mouths were busy and their hands began to explore each other's body. It didn’t take too long before they were naked.

Lance had worked a finger inside her and groaned into her neck at how wet she was. Y/N was squirming beneath him, her nails scratching down his back. And somehow in his drunken daze, he still managed to regain a bit of sense to ask her if this was her first time. She told him she wasn’t a virgin, and he remembered her telling him one night that she had fallen in love with the first man who’d treated her right. She’d probably lost her virginity to Harry. The thought stung a little even though Lance was the more experienced one. He guessed the ale had made him a bit emotionally vulnerable. He wasn’t sure if he liked this side of him.

It’d been too long for both of them, so they didn’t last very long. She came first and he helped her finish before he started chasing his own pleasure, groaning into her neck and nipping gently at her ear.

Y/N fell asleep right afterwards, with her head on his bare chest and a faint smile on her face. And just like many nights ago, Lance whispered, “Goodnight. I’ll be here when you wake up,” kissed her hair, and tried to sleep, hoping he wouldn’t dream.

.

.

.

When Jo came to wake Y/N in the morning, she was horrified to find Lance and the Queen naked and tangled together in between the sheets. She'd expected to find them sleeping in the same bed, but not this. Honestly, she was surprised that she wasn’t jealous at all. While a part of her was confused, another part angry, there was this other part that couldn’t help but feel sorry for Lance. She’d thought he was smarter than this.

Men.

“Jo!” Lance gasped as he tugged the sheets up to his chest. Y/N was still struggling to open her eyes, and once she’d seen Jo, her face burned red as she sunk deep into the pillows.

“Put your clothes on, please. I won’t look,” Jo told Lance as she crossed the room to open the curtains to let more light in. When she turned around, Y/N was shielding her eyes from the morning light, and Lance had already pulled up his trousers and tugged on his boots.  

“I’ll be back in half an hour to help you get dressed.”

With that, Jo sauntered out of the room.

“Jo, wait!” Lance called after her but her steps did not falter. He raced her down the corridor, took her by the wrist and spun her around. She tossed his hand away and he sidestepped her before she could storm off again.

“Please don’t be mad at Y/N. It was my fault.”

“I’m not mad at the Queen,” she said. “The room smelled like an alehouse. I assume neither of you remembers what you’ve done.”

Lance rubbed his massive hands over his face, and Jo wondered if he knew he wasn’t wearing a shirt. It was the first time she’d seen him...not calm.

“We weren’t that drunk,” he said.

She scoffed, crossing her arms and looking away. “Y/N is unstable. You know she’s still in love with Harry. Him being dead doesn’t just take him out of the picture.”

“I know. It won’t happen again,” he said. “I don’t think it meant much to her anyway.”

“What about you, Lance?”

She could have sworn she’d seen him flinch. “What about me?”

“You’re in love with her.”

“I’m not.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “You’re not a better liar than me, Lance. I’ve been in love with her my whole life. I know.”

He was quiet for a moment, just studying her face. “Are you going to tell her?”

“No.” Jo shrugged. “And you’re not, either. Just keep this fake marriage fake until she’s really over him.”

Lance pressed his lips tightly together. “Understood.”

“Good.” She eyed him up and down. “Now put a shirt on. It’s really disturbing that you’re half-naked.”

.

.

.

When Lance returned to the room, Y/N had put her nightgown on and was sitting on the edge of the bed, beaming at him. She glowed even brighter than the sun behind her head, and the memories from last night crashed over him, leaving him speechless for a second, just gazing at her.

“Is she angry?” she asked, pulling him back to reality.

“Yes.” He breathed and marched toward her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her later.”

Lance didn’t comment anything more on Jo. Instead of joining Y/N on the bed, he kneeled down in front of her and grasped her hands that were on her lap. She looked at him with a puzzled expression, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss away her pout.

“Do you remember anything about last night?” he asked.

She giggled, squeezing his fingers. “Yes. Don’t look so horrified, baby dove,” she repeated what he’d said to her in a joking tone. “I told you it wasn’t my first time.”

And that was the moment Lance realized that Jo had been right. This happiness of Y/N’s seemed odd. Hadn’t she told him two days ago that she’d just wanted to feel something? Did she know what was real and what was not anymore? Would she just settle for anything? For him?

“Y/N,” he said, gravely. “I don’t think we should do that again. I felt like I took advantage of you.”

Her face contorted. “You didn’t…”

He shook his head. “I want you. I do.” It was hard to admit it, but after last night, it was clear there was no turning back. “But not like this,” his voice lowered. “I promise that I won’t kiss you again until you've let him go.”

She stared at him with what he didn’t dare to assume was disappointment. She took time pondering over his words as though she was trying to decide for herself how she really felt about him.

Finally, she nodded.

He sighed in relief, though something in him was broken.

Then, he kissed her.

When he pulled back, she had this breathless look on her face and a little confused smile that got him yearning for more. “From now on, I mean,” he chuckled, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. “I had to do that one last time, in case I can’t do it again.”

To his surprise, a bright laugh crackled out of her as she covered her mouth for it would be considered unladylike.

“I’m not used to the new Lance,” she said, holding his thumb.

“Me neither.” He grinned. “So let’s try to be mean to each other in front of everyone. I think I can still call you ‘baby dove’ in a sarcastic way.”

”I believe you still have that in you, my lord,” she said. “I should start calling you ‘my lord’. What do you think?”

“I’d like that,” he said, then faked an angry grimace. “I mean, I hate that. Do not call me that.”

She burst out laughing again. Lance did too. Then he kissed her hand and got up to finish getting dressed.

Just as he thought the storm was through, however, another one arrived on the next day.

He, Y/N, and the lords had gathered in the conference hall to plan a new strategy to deal with the protests; they could not be careless and lose more of their men. While Y/N was debating with Commander Robert about the food supplies, Lance’s mind wandered back to what she’d told him many months ago. The folks had carried expensive weapons. So someone must be pulling strings behind the curtains. He still firmly believed that it was Calanthe. But how? Calanthe had no access to the North. Northerners would not surrender to a Southern ruler, especially when it was a woman. None of this made sense at all.

Suddenly, the door flew open and a guard rushed into the room. “Your Majesty! You must see this!”

Y/N and Lance looked at each other at the same time and hurriedly dismissed the meeting to follow the frightened guard, who was too panicked to tell them what it was. They were heading to the throne room. And as soon as they stepped inside, Lance could not believe what he saw.

Whom he saw.

A beaten long-haired man dressed in filthy clothes with fresh wounds all over him was being held down by two Isolde guards.

“Harry!” Y/N’s scream echoed within the walls as she launched herself at him, shouting, “What are you doing? Let him go!”

“Your Majesty. He’s dangerous,” a guard said.

“He’s not! He’s hurt! Release him!”

That was when Lance saw it. The way this man, who looked like Harry, glanced up at the Queen. The look in his eyes was cold, vicious, and full of contempt.

“Y/N!” Lance snapped.

“Harry, it’s me. It’s Peach—”

It all happened so fast. The man closed his fingers around her throat and slammed her onto her back with an extraordinary strength that she could not even scream. Y/N could fight back if she were armed but she’d let her guards down. In a matter of seconds, Lance managed to spot the shiny ring on the man’s finger, push the guards aside and knock the man unconscious with the hilt of his sword.

Y/N sprang free, crawling toward Lance as he got down on his knees and put his arms around her. She was gagging and gasping for air. Harry’s fingers had left visible marks around her throat.

“Put him in the dungeon but do not hurt him!” Lance shouted at the guards. “That’s Harry.”

“That’s n-not Harry…” he heard Y/N say. She was crying and shaking in his arms. Lance stroked her hair and shushed softly into her ear as the guards carried the unconscious man out of the room.

That was definitely Harry. But he wasn’t Harry anymore.

.

.

.

That morning, the guards had found two people at the gate. A man and a woman tied to each other back to back. Harry had been instantly recognised, so despite him protesting, the guards had managed to drag him to the throne room and called for the Queen. The woman had been unconscious and taken to the bathhouse to get cleaned. The guards had told Y/N that the woman had been marked with a fire tattoo on her back that belonged to a group of people called The Monks. Fire was for witches. In the old days, witches used to be burned on the stake, and so using fire as a symbol was a way to reclaim their liberty. Ironically, half of this woman’s face had been burned by fire.

Y/N had only read about these people in the books as they’d existed hundreds of years ago but had not been seen for a long long time. So either this ‘witch’ was a fraud and the tattoo was fake, or there was more to this than Y/N had thought.

“Y/N, they’re here.”

Y/N snapped her head to the corridor as Lance walked in with Kenny and Stefan trailing behind him; Kenny was holding a child wrapped in a blanket. Y/N nodded to Jo, who was holding her hand.

Kenny looked slightly puzzled when Jo came up to her and asked if she could hold the child, but all the questions seemed to vanish from her head the second she caught sight of the prisoner in the cell. She let Jo take her little girl and pushed past the guards toward Harry. Y/N could see the light in his eyes when he finally saw someone he recognised.

“Kenny!” He threw himself at the bars. His hands were tied at the front so Kenny reached through the gap to touch his face. “Kenny, why are you here? Did they hurt you? These people are dangerous, Kenny.”

When he said that, he was glaring straight at Y/N. She felt Lance stepping closer and decided to speak before he could. “You tried to kill me, Harry. You didn’t give us a choice.”

Kenny looked at Y/N over her shoulder. Her face turned pale when she noticed the red marks around Y/N’s neck. Y/N felt as naked as ever as she tried to cover them with her hair. She felt Lance’s presence beside her and drew a steady breath.

“Did you tell them?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” Lance said, keeping an eye on Kenny and Harry. “I also told them not to talk to him about you.”

“Why?” Jo interjected, keeping her voice down. “If we tell him he used to be in love with Y/N, it might help him remember.”

Y/N turned back to the other three. “I don’t trust him,” she said. Stefan had joined his wife on the floor in front of Harry, and Y/N could tell he didn’t take the news of Kenny’s new family very well. From what he remembered, he was still madly in love with this woman. “He’s not himself anymore,” Y/N continued. “He might use what we had against me.”

Then she recalled the look in his eyes when he’d pinned her down and tried to choke her. It was the same look she’d seen on her father and brother whenever they’d shot down the prey whose life meant nothing to them. The thought chilled her to the bones and she unconsciously put her arms around herself.

She heard Lance sigh and felt him brush her hair over her shoulder to inspect the evidence of Harry’s violence. “Does it still hurt?”

She shook her head. If it did, she didn’t notice; she was being tormented by another kind of pain.

Lance rubbed his thumb gently over her bruised skin. His voice was soothing and warm, “Do you want to get out of here?”

In the cell, Harry had his head buried in his hands, his long hair pouring over his face, and Kenny was trying to tell him something that made him shake his head nonstop.

It was agonising to watch.

“Let’s go,” Y/N told Lance, hugging herself as he placed his hand on her back and guided her back to the entrance. Jo stayed with the two guards to wait for Kenny and Stefan.

Once Lance and Y/N had exited the dungeon, a guard rushed up to them, gasping for air. “Your Majesties!”

“What?” asked Lance. Y/N clutched his arm.

“The witch. She’s awake.”

.

.

.

The witch was kept in the deepest room in the dungeon. Y/N had never set foot here as this place was only used to keep the most dangerous criminals, and because her brother had been the most dangerous criminal Isolde had ever known, this room hadn’t been very practical.

Y/N’s heart was thundering as the guard opened the metal door and stepped aside. They all had their hands on the hilts of their swords as she and Lance entered the room. She should have brought her own weapon, but considering how everyone around her was already armed, the last thing she wanted was to frighten the witch even more.

Harry wasn’t talking, so she hoped she could get some words out of this prisoner.

To Y/N’s surprise, it was a young girl. Nothing like what she had imagined. She knew witches weren’t meant to be scary, because Maggie, whose prophecy had been about Y/N being the saviour, who’d saved Jo’s life in exchange for Y/N’s ability to produce an heir, had been beautiful. But Maggie had been exotic. This one, however, looked like a normal maiden.

In fact, she looked quite familiar. Y/N squinted her eyes as she approached the girl who was chained to the wall. Half of her face had been burned, but Y/N could still recognise her.

“M-Mary?”

“Y/N!” Mary cried out and started laughing hysterically. “Thank Gods, you're here! Please, you have to listen to me. Don’t let them hurt me, please. I’ve lost all my powers! I’m too weak. I’ll die!”

“Shhh.” Y/N held the girl’s dirty face between her hands. Behind her, armours clang. The guards were ready to take Mary down if she attacked the Queen, but Y/N knew Mary wouldn’t. Harry had been frightened and furious, but this girl was only frightened. She ordered the guards to wait outside, leaving only her and Lance to interrogate the girl.

“No one’s going to hurt you. I can guarantee that,” Y/N told Mary. “But you must tell me the truth. Everything. All right?”

Mary was crying now. The wrinkles on the burned side of her face shifted in a disturbing way. “She made me. She made me do it. It drained all my powers and she tossed me out.”

“Who?”

“Calanthe.”

Y/N’s stomach dipped. Her limbs were frozen.

“She’s behind the attacks,” Mary sobbed, shaking her head. “I’d warned her. She didn’t listen to me. She listened to them and I must follow the orders.”

“Them? Who are they, Mary?”

“The Monks.”

“You’re one of them?” Lance interjected.

Mary nodded fast. “You must believe me. They exist. I’m not lying. They’re helping Calanthe plan the protests.”

“What?” Y/N pulled back. “The protests were all her? How did she get her people into the North?”

“They’re not her people,” Lance said, his face taut with discovery. “They’re yours. They’ve picked a side. The Monks are on her side now and they’re turning your people against you.”

“They practise black magic,” Mary said. “They’re experienced spies and killers. They’d come to Edgar and pledged their loyalty to him when your father passed away. They’d promised to help your uncle fight in the war between the North and the South. What the King did not know was that The Monks had never wanted peace. They believed in one ruler. I’m sure you’ve heard the old tales about the King of Isolde who’d wanted to take over the world.”

“It was a myth,” Y/N said.

“Apparently not,” Mary said. “The Monks believe in one ruler. They wanted to take power from the other three high courts and hand it all to the person they think deserves to rule all one hundred kingdoms.”

“And they think it’s Calanthe?”

Mary lifted her bony shoulders. “Only because you’re not the type of monarch who wants world domination.”

“Neither was my uncle.”

“Oh, no, they didn’t come to Edgar for him,” Mary said. “They’d come for Egon.”

A chill rushed down Y/N’s spine. “What?”

Mary’s eyes darkened. “Why did you think Edgar dismissed all the guards on the night he’d been killed? Your uncle had been murdered by someone he’d trusted. The Monks had lied their way into the Theros court to eliminate the King, put his young wife on the throne so it’d be easier for Egon to win. But they’d underestimated both you and Calanthe. Now there’s a queen in the North and the South. King Javed of the East is easily manipulated but would probably shit his pants on the battlefield. They would have gone for Lance had he not been betrothed to you. Between the two Queens, they must pick the one who was more blood-thirsty.”

Y/N drew in a steady breath and stood taller to mask her anxiety. “I think one of them tried to kill me in the market. I saw him at the Theros court with a group of men in black cloaks.”

Mary nodded. “It’s them. Egon had sent one of them to kill me and my sisters. I escaped and I think Harry killed him.”

“Your sisters…” Y/N jolted with a start. “Was Maggie your sister?”

Mary’s remaining eye gleamed for the first time. “You know Maggie?”

“Yes.”

“Did she...did she suffer?” Mary swallowed dryly. “When she died, I mean...Egon got her and I—You see, we had this thing that let us know if one of us was dead and I-I know both of my sisters are dead. I just have to know if Maggie suffered more than May.”

And so Y/N told Mary everything that had happened. How she’d given up the life of her future heir to bring her best friend back, and that Maggie had travelled to the other world with the pure soul she’d collected. Maggie had also thought Mary had been dead.

“They must have taken it from her so she couldn’t tell if May and I were alive,” Mary said, almost to herself.

Y/N didn’t know what ‘it’ was, but she didn’t want to sadden Mary even more with talks about her sisters.

“And what about Harry?” Y/N asked. “Did you put a spell on him?”

Mary stuttered for a moment, looking for the right words. “It’s not...not just a spell...It’s a reverse love potion...You see, love potion creates false memories so the victim will believe that they’re madly in love with the subject even when the subject is a complete stranger they’ve never met before. For the reverse kind, you erase all memories relating to the subject. Both kinds are equally evil. But the reverse kind requires more time and power to create. Once I’d succeeded, it took my powers and now I’m just a normal person. It’s like a curse for the victim and the witch who’d prepared the potion. And there’s no antidote, not that I know of at least...”

“What is it?” Y/N clenched her jaw, her voice low and brittle. “There’s something else, isn’t it? Is he going to be all right?”

“The potion is deadly.”

“What?” Lance snapped.

Y/N could not feel her body anymore.

“To both Harry and I,” Mary said. “All magic comes with a price. But I’m sure Maggie had told you that. That potion and the process of making it shortens your lifespan tremendously. It takes away twenty years at least. I don’t know how many years he and I have lost, but now I’m magicless, and we might just die tomorrow.”

“No...” Y/N choked out and covered her mouth as hot tears started running down her cheeks. She heard Lance shut the door behind her, probably so the guards could not overhear the rest of this conversation. “You killed him!” she screamed and clenched her fists. She wanted to hurt someone if not herself, and Lance was quick to grab her shoulders and pull her back.

“And myself, too,” Mary said. Y/N asked her why and she did not speak. Y/N didn’t think the girl would say anything else, so she called for the guards to take Mary to a normal cell. As much as she’d like to blame the witch and Calanthe for what had happened, she could not be angrier at anyone else other than herself. Harry hadn’t meant to stay here. When he’d come to her chamber a year ago, he’d asked to see her one last time before he left. She’d begged him to stay with her. Her selfishness had cost him his life. Now he didn’t remember who she was, couldn’t see his family again, and could die any given moment.

“I’ll bring an army to Theros and take Calanthe’s head myself,” she said as they ascended the stairs back to the ground floor. They took a turn into the corridor and Lance yanked her back by her wrist.

He shook her once so she’d snap out of her resentment. “That’s what she wants, Y/N. She wants to expose you to the low courts. Prove to them that you’re having an affair with Harry and our marriage is a fraud.” She jerked her hand away, glaring at him through the tears. Lance did not falter. The man who’d whispered sweet words in her ear the other night wasn’t here anymore. This was what a king looked like. “She’s playing a game with you. To prove that she can burn your villages, kill your people, hurt the ones you love and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” he said. “But once you’ve let that sink in, you’ll realize that all of this effort was only to distract you from the real war. She could have killed you in the attack instead of taking Harry but she let you live. She doesn’t want to win easily. She wants all one hundred kingdoms to see what she’s capable of and that she doesn’t win by luck.”

Y/N steadied her breath and felt his fingers around her wrist loosen. Moments like this and the other night made her question her true feelings. She cared about Lance; he made her feel safe and she’d learned to rely on him. They now came as a matching set, and she’d be lost without him. But now that Harry had returned, the feelings she’d developed for Lance in the past ten months suddenly felt wrong. Harry might not remember her, but she remembered everything, and she wished it’d been her who forgot. But then again, she didn’t want to put Harry through what she’d gone through. Neither of them had had it easy.

“I believe there’s an antidote,” Lance said once he’d made sure that she was calm enough to listen. “All magic comes with a price, but one thing I’ve learned from all my years sailing around the world is that all prices could be bargained.”

“Mary said—”

“That there was no antidote that she knew of. She’s not a powerful witch, Y/N. That was why your brother tried to kill her and the other sister and kept Maggie, right?”

“Right…”

Lance placed a hand on her shoulder. “This is not the end. But you must be careful because Calanthe is dangerous. We both have underestimated her. Who knows how many of your courtiers are on her side?”

Y/N swallowed and gave a slight nod. She suddenly felt ashamed for how she’d reacted. All those months had driven her insane. She guessed she couldn’t put on a good enough show to fool everyone including herself that she was capable of fixing this mess she’d caused.

“I want to be alone for the rest of the day,” she said timidly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he replied.

As Y/N watched him go, she wondered to herself if the look she’d seen on his face had meant something more than she’d thought, and if the other night had been more than she’d expected of him.

.

.

.

Y/N had been wrong to send Lance away tonight. And now she couldn’t fall back to sleep after having awoken by another nightmare. This time, she’d been invited to a feast. On the table were three plates. On each one was a head. Harry’s, Lance’s, and Uncle Edgar’s. She’d lost her uncle. Was she going to lose Harry and Lance, too?

Y/N had no idea how, but she found herself standing outside Harry’s cell. She didn’t even remember walking here. It felt like she’d blinked and just appeared in the dungeon. All the other prisoners were asleep but Harry was awake as if he’d been waiting for her. She knew it wasn’t the reason; he didn’t even know who she was.

He seemed better than before. They must have untied him by her order after having given him a bath and had the physician see and bandage his wounds. His long hair was tied into a bun at the back of his head. He’d always been clean-shaven, but now the stubbles of a growing beard had formed a pattern on his face. He looked so different and familiar at the same time.

“Having trouble sleeping?” he asked before she could find the right words to start a conversation.

“You, too?”

“I’ve slept enough during the day,” he said. “Your husband knocked me unconscious for hours so...” He hadn’t said it in a sarcastic or bitter tone, just stating a fact. The old Harry would go insane when Lance looked at Y/N for a moment too long. It was funny how she’d finally started to miss him being overly jealous.

“Is this one of your hobbies?” he asked, getting up from the dirty floor and closing the distance between them. “To come to the dungeon and watch us sleep because you couldn’t?”

He stood with his arms dangling out of the cells and a smirk on his face. He’d looked like this when they’d first met.

She mustered a smile, lifting her chin and wrapping the fur coat tighter around herself. “Yes, watching my prisoners suffer gives me good sleep.”

Harry pursed his lips in mocking wonder. “The scariest thing is that I cannot tell if you’re being serious.”

Something inside her softened. He was telling jokes, meaning he didn’t consider her as a threat anymore.

“You think I’m scary?” she asked.

“Honestly?” He squinted his eyes; they looked more like the eyes she remembered now. “Not at all. Kenny told me we were friends.”

Y/N started. Kenny wasn’t meant to say anything about her.

“Don’t worry,” he said, seemingly amused by her reaction. “Kenny didn’t share any embarrassing facts about you.”

“I don’t know what she’s told you,” Y/N said, “but do you believe her?”

Harry shrugged. “She never lies to me, so yes.”

Y/N ignored the sharp pain in her chest as she said, “I’m sorry you had to find out about her and Stefan this way.”

Harry’s expression remained unchanged. He hadn’t had to hide his true feelings from her for so long that she’d forgotten he was actually good at it.

“I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes. “Apology accepted.”

Y/N hadn’t realized how close she was to the cell until Harry reached out and touched the marks on her neck. His eyebrows pinched together as he regarded her with a quizzical look. “You didn’t flinch.”

She pressed her lips into a smile. “You expected me to?”

“I hurt you,” he said; there was a sense of guilt in his voice that gave her hope.

“That wasn’t you.”

“You don’t know me anymore.”

“Right,” Y/N mumbled, staring at her feet. “Well, I should probably return to bed.”

“I had a dream about you,” he spoke before she could turn away. She stiffened and blinked at him. He scratched the back of his head, looking slightly flustered, or was it just what she wanted to see – Harry being that awkward boy she’d fallen in love with?

“It’s not dirty or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he chuckled and looked at her with caution to make sure she was listening. “I was walking down a dark corridor,” he began, “when I heard someone crying, so I checked every room until I found one that was not empty. You were sitting on the edge of your bed in your nightgown—Not dirty, I promise.” Y/N let out a laugh and waved for him to go on. “So...I asked you what was wrong. I think I knew you in my dream because I felt like I did. You told me you’d had a nightmare and asked me to stay.”

“And did you?” She could not help but ask.

“I’ll keep that as a secret for now,” he replied, his dimple making an appearance.

Y/N let out a sigh, yet she felt a grin spreading across her lips.

“I feel like you’re keeping something from me,” he broke the silence after a moment.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like…” He tapped his chin with a finger. That was when she noticed that he was still wearing her ring. “I feel like we were close.”

“We were,” she said and tore her eyes from the shiny object to meet his gaze. “Did Kenny tell you about our journey last year?”

“Yes. She said we became friends afterwards and I agreed to stay with you here.” There was an indecisive pause. “You must have meant a lot to me,” his voice lowered. “Because I wouldn’t just leave my ma and sister behind.”

You must have meant a lot to me. It took everything for her not to tell him that she’d meant everything to him, just like how he still did to her. But she couldn’t. These words might not even come from his heart. He was a conman after all.

“I cannot visit them anymore,” he went on, picking at his own nails. Was he anxious? “Calanthe said she’d taken me from the battlefield, and I lost my memory so I was worthless to her. What I didn’t understand was why she’d sent me back here instead of killing me.”

“Did she ask you many questions about me?”

Harry nodded, their eyes locked again. “But I didn’t know who you were. And when I woke up, I was being dragged away by two guards, and then you showed up and I thought you were one of Calanthe’s people.”

“I would have reacted the same way, too.” She raised a tight smile, and he smiled back. This one, she believed, was genuine.

“It took me until later to realize that when you ran to me, you said you were...Peach?” His head tilted slightly in a playful sort of way. “What was that about?”

She felt her smile widen. “That was what you used to call me. You thought it was funny because I blushed too often.”

“You don’t—Oh wait, here it is. You’re blushing.”

“Stop,” she told him, but he was right, her cheeks were burning.

His dimples deepened. “Peach,” he stressed the word as if to test the sound of it on his tongue. “That does sound like something I would call you. But if we were so close, why don’t you trust me now?”

She blinked. “You don’t trust me.”

“Fair.” The way he said it without any emotion made her stomach clench. One second he gave her butterflies and the next he made her want to cry. She’d better go before this became too much. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Maybe we can start again,” he told her. If he weren’t behind bars and she didn’t have his fingerprints on her neck, she’d assume that he was trying to prolong this conversation because he missed talking to her. He held her gaze and offered his hand through the gap. “Truce? I promise I won’t try to kill you again.”

She took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He narrowed his eyes. “Your hand is so cold.”

“Do you always say what you think?” she asked even though she knew the answer.

“Only when I’m nervous.” That was the answer. “It’s not every day that I get to almost kill a queen and then find out I’ve been friends with her all along.”

She studied him with a straight face and remembered Lance’s advice to be careful with everyone in court. How much of what Harry had said could she trust? How much was the truth?

How much of you is still in there, Harry?

“Goodnight,” she said flatly.

He stopped her once again. “Peach, wait.” When she whipped around, eyes wide, mouth agape, he snorted, “You’re right. It does sound funny.”

She rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Can I get a haircut?” he asked, lifting his shoulders. “If I’m going to stay in here for a while, I should get a haircut and maybe shave this beard.”

“What beard?”

“Don’t be mean.” He chuckled.

She shrugged, trying not to smile. “I don’t trust you near sharp objects.”

“You can have someone do it for me.”

“I don’t trust you near sharp objects and my men,” she said, and after a moment of consideration, added, “I’ll cut your hair myself.”

He looked at her as if waiting for her to burst out laughing. She only stared back at him.

“I don’t trust you with a sharp object near me,” he said, looking shocked and amused at the same time.

“Get used to that,” she told him.

He looked less like a stranger than before as he leaned against the bars and pursed his lips. His voice was suddenly warm and raspy. “I’m sorry about your brother and all the protests happening in the North. I can't imagine what you’ve had to go through.”

“Thank you.”

“Good thing you’ve found someone who loves you like the King.”

“Lance?” Y/N schooled her face. “How do you know he loves me? Royals don’t always marry for love.”

“It’s the way he looked at you when you weren't looking,” he said, and something inside Y/N stirred uneasily. She wanted to tell him that he used to look at her like that, but what she actually said was, “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Peach.” Harry’s dimples appeared as he waved at her.

As soon as she’d left the dungeon, Y/N broke into tears.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 XXX

Warnings: dark elements, dub/noncon (fingering)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The king has some fun.

Note: Hey, it’s me again. I wrote this chapter after work in the brief interlude between soul crushing shifts. Hope you enjoy.<3 

Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

After Priskham, the progress continued to Lord Stark's lair at the Iron Tower and continued on to Lord Barnes's hold of Brooks's End. The castle had been abandoned for two centuries before him as its former family had been extinguished for their part in a plot against the Rogers' Dynasty in Western Uprisings. You suspected its history loomed in the mind of its current keeper.

The king was as diligent as ever but since your first night upon progress, you had done better to let him his desires. You didn't dare pretend at sleep again and when he made a request, you took it as an order. And Barnes, well you avoided him as you could, for his sake and yours. Not that he would look at or talk to you.

To mark the first full day in Brook’s End, Barnes arranged a feast. The wild boar, for which the locale was famous for, was served roasted with a medley of vegetables, and endless wine and ale. The king had a hand in the event; he bid that Barnes take a seat of honour upon the dais for his efforts. Steven sat in the middle and you were thankful to have him as a barrier.

You sat quietly as you ate. You didn’t have energy for much else. Travel, the king, the court; it all piled up. You listened instead as you awaited dessert, eager to retire for the night. There was to be no dancing as no band could be acquired but there was little outcry at the announcement.

“A final stop at Drissot and we can make for Shell’s Harth.” The king said gaily. “Asgard does seem most eager to have us and I’ve never the pleasure of visiting, even when that witch was alive.”

“King Thor did write of a tournament. Do you think it wise to partake?” Barnes asked dully as he rubbed his finger along the rim of his goblet. “It could be a scheme. A pointed lance could be easily disguised or a sword conveniently confused.” 

“Always so paranoid, my lord,” Steven teased. “Besides, it might have been a few years since my last, but when have I ever been felled at a tourney?”

“Never, your highness,” Barnes answered. “But that was among your own people.”

“I would be more concerned with a taster to guard my plate,” Steve countered. “And my queen’s.”

The king reached blindly to you and ran his hand over your skirts. He didn’t look away from Barnes as he gripped your leg through the fabric. You swallowed and looked down at his hand. He didn’t rescind it as he continued to talk.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Surely,” Barnes answered with a cough. “I was thinking… we might send an ambassador ahead of us. He shall need a party as well to see him safe. Perhaps a mole or two…” He paused and you felt the shift in your hem; the king’s fingers on your thigh as he gathered your skirt slowly. “To attain a preview of the Asgardian court?”

“Hmmm,” Steven said thoughtfully. He carried on tugging your skirt up, up, up, until it was past your knee. You tried to catch the hem and he yanked it sharply. A warning. “I suppose it wouldn’t be ridiculous.”

You stared at the king’s hand as it moved. You followed the brocade along his arm and tried to glance his expression as he kept his face to his companion. The tables below were unable to see past the long cloth hung over yours; the crest of the king beside that of Brook’s End. Steven slipped his hand past the satin and Barnes cleared his throat.

“And we should, uh…” Barnes’ voice was stunted and looked at each other. His gaze sent a thrill through you as his eyes rounded. He blinked and gulped and turned his attention to his goblet. “We should, um, keep an eye on his brother as well. Prince Loki is known for his spies; for having his ear… to the, uh… to the ground most anywhere he treads.”

“Oh, yes, I was not keen on the rodent.” Steven snarled. 

The king shoved his hand up until it met your vee. You squeezed your thighs around him and he pinched you sharply. You squeaked as he forced your legs back apart. He began to rub you with two fingers. You gritted your teeth and tried not to show your discomfort to the people.

Barnes was silent. He emptied his cup and placed it on the table with a hollow clunk. Steven did not relent. The nobleman sighed and shifted in his chair.

“Your highness,” He hissed. “I do not think this… appropriate.”

“Why, this is my feast, is it not? You did declare in my honour?” Steven taunted. “And I find myself rather bored without a band and so I must entertain myself.”

“Then do excuse me,” Barnes insisted as he made to rise.

“No, you shall stay. We are not done talking,” Steven purred as he swirled his fingers and you gasped. You grabbed the side of your chair and pressed yourself to the tall backrest. 

“Please, Steven, she is your queen. You would humiliate her in front of her own court.” Barnes remanded. “Is that the only reason you sought to wed her? To spite her for her denial?”

“Denial? She is mine,” Steven chuckled. “Look at her. She’s trembling, isn’t she? Always so receptive.”

“Don’t do this,” Barnes’ whispered. 

“Who can see but you?” Steven challenged. “I do wonder why it should disturb you so. You did not protest when it was Rose you brought to me. When you did see her to my chambers. Or the one before that… Was it Laura? Lana? Even when it was Eleanor, you did not flinch.”

Barnes’ nostrils flared and he gulped. He reached for his goblet again and found it empty. Then he grabbed the ewer and swore as he found it dry as well. He tossed it back on the table and sat back heavily. He crossed his arms and glared at the king.

“Don’t look at me, look at her,” The king ordered. “Look at that face. Do her lashes flutter? Her eyes roll back? She bites down and you can hear her breathing through her teeth. And she is wet. I can slip inside…” He paused as he pushed his fingers past your entrance and his palm against your clit. “So easily.”

“Steven…” You begged as you touched his wrist. “Please…”

“Do you think she begs me to stop or to cum?” Steven looked to you with a smirk. “Do you think it matters?” He turned back to Barnes. “She is my wife, my queen; mine to do with as I please.”

“Why are you doing this?” Barnes growled.

“Because I can.” The king sneered as his fingers worked faster inside of you. “Because, my lord, I want you to recall this whenever your eyes stray to her; whenever they linger on her as they are want to do; whenever you have those lewd little thoughts that do darken your eyes so.”

Your hands went to the table as you clutched the wood. You struggled not to cry out as you leaned forward into his hand without thinking. Your feet arched in your slippers and the crowd blurred in your vision; a streak of colours and voices. You shook your head as the ripples began to spread along your flesh. As the familiar prick started in your core.

“So watch, my lord, and remember who is king and who is subject,” Steven spat. “Who holds power over…” He paused as you spasmed. You sat back enough to cause the chair to wobble and held in a sob as you came. “Who.”

He slipped his fingers out of you as you tried to steady your breath. He lifted his hand to the light and admired the glisten before he licked them. Your head spun as your eyes found Barnes through the haze; he was livid and pale. His nails were sunk into the arms of his chair and his jaw was squared.

“I have never forgotten, your highness,” He said.

“Good,” Steven smirked and tugged your skirts back down over your legs until it fell upon its own weight. “See that you don’t.” He sat up and glanced around the chamber. “Shall I call for more wine?”

👑

You were to be at Brook’s End for a week. Three days in and you found the place unbearable. The king made it thus. He wouldn’t stop fucking you until you were screaming and he hadn’t grown any subtler in the presence of his host. Only half a week before you set out to the final stop upon your tour; until you would be on your way to your sister.

That day, you spent apart from the king. You and your ladies read from a poetry book, explored the east wing where portraits hung along the walls, and attended your prayers and meals together. For a time, you forgot the king and his favoured lord; although you wondered if his preference was very fervent anymore.

And then you were to return to your husband. You lingered with Marion in the corridors but knew you could forever. You clung to her as she bid you farewell and watched her go. Your guard was silent as you led him through the halls. You hated his thin, unmoving lips and his bushy brows. You missed Dolan. And Marion. Should you mourn them too?

You stood outside your doors for a moment. You looked over to the guard as he took his place opposite the king’s. They didn’t seem to notice you. As you stepped forward, they opened the doors for you and you stepped inside. The king was there, at his desk. He didn’t lift his head as you entered.

“My queen,” He said as he finished scratching his nib across the parchment. “I’ve been awaiting you.”

“My apologies, I did find myself prolonged by Lady Marion,” You lied. “How was your day, husband?”

“Fine enough,” He sat up and set his pen down. “And you, wife?”

“Fine, as well,” You neared the other side of his desk. “Though I do tire.”

“I should hope you aren’t very tired,” He stood and you fought not to wince as he rounded the desk. “I had it in mind that we might play a game.”

“A game?” You repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Cards? Do you know ‘Horses’, or prehaps ‘Lances’?” He asked and you blinked in surprise.

“Uh, yes, of course,” You smiled and for a moment he was silent. He looked down at you as he touched your cheek.

“Then you choose and we shall play,” He bent and pecked your lips. “First I should like a change of clothes.”

“I suppose I would too,” You said. “I like a challenge so I think Horses should do.” 

You followed him to the bed chamber. There was a flutter in your chest. True excitement alongside a sense of relief. You always played cards with your sister; you weren’t very competitive but you enjoyed the past time.

“Horses it is,” He agreed.

He loosened your laces for you and his hands did not wander. You were further surprised. You let the silk fall down your arms and undressed with a sigh. You pulled a robe over your shift and looked up at Steven. He pushed his hair back and stretched; his own robe hung open over a pair of shorts.

“I have set the cards out already,” He said. “You may deal as I pour the wine.”

“You know I do not drink very much wine,” You replied. “Is there water? Milk?”

“The wine is part of the game.” He led you to the table and waited for you to sit before he did. “For each round, the loser will drink.”

“Oh,” You took the deck of cards as he pulled the pair of goblets towards him and filled each with the dark wine. “Hm, well then I suppose I should want to win even more.”

“I wish you luck,” He slid a cup towards you. “So, let us begin.” You dealt six cards to each of you and set the deck in the middle. “Shall I draw first or you?”

“I should allow you the pleasure,” You sorted your cards by suit and waited for him to start.

It was promising at first. You each flicked your cards down one at a time and while you were not winning, you were not losing either. An even match until the last was laid down. The king cried out Horses and you shook your head. A sneaky move but not illegal.

“Drink,” He urged.

You exhaled and took your cup. “To your victory,” You raised it and drank. 

As you set it back down, he tutted. “You must finish.”

You lifted your brow but he did not waver. You lifted your goblet again and gulped deeply. You nearly choked as you emptied it and as you replaced it on the table, your vision swam just a little. He poured you another glass and shuffled the deck. He slid them to you and let you deal again.

And you lost. Again. You huffed and looked into your cup. It was quite a bit of wine. He laughed and gathered up the cards. “My dear, it is only your second cup.”

“I told you, wine does not agree with me.” You pleaded.

“You might still catch up,” He gloated. “Shall I deal this time?”

“As you wish,” You grumbled as you took your cup again. 

The wine was sweeter and easier to swallow but it had a more potent effect. He filled your cup again and you held in a belch. He doled out the cards and you swept up your hand and almost fumbled them. He let you draw first this time and you groaned. Not a good start. He flicked his first card down and you yours. You tossed each onto the pile in quick succession and you were ready to celebrate until that last card. The same trick.

“Lord!” You exclaimed as you threw up your hands. “You must cheat, my king.”

“I did change so that you would not suspect cards up my sleeves,” He held out his arms as his robe hung loosely from them. “And I haven’t anywhere else to conceal them.” He reached to nudge your goblet closer to you. “Do not be a sore loser.”

“I am not… sore.” You argued and grabbed the cup. “Next game.”

You drained the cup, a little dribbled down your chin, and slammed the cup back down. You felt bubbly and wobbly. You leaned on the table to steady yourself. The king dealt the cards and you took them clumsily. You had to win this time.

“How about this. For each card, I will ask you a question for each card and you may ask me one?”

“Ask you what?” You said through thick lips.

“Anything you wish. Shall I draw?”

“Go ahead.” You waved your fingers at him.

He drew and flopped the card down. “First question; I know you to be innocent before we wed, but did you ever kiss another before me?”

“What?” You scoffed. “N-no. Who would I kiss?”

“Is that your question?” He asked.

“No,” You laid down your card. “Why… did you choose cards for tonight?”

“Because they are simple and everything else is so complicated.” He answered. “And… I don’t know. You make me feel… young again.”

“You’re not old,” You chided. “Wait… are you?”

“Not your turn,” He warned and slapped his card down. “Did you ever fancy anyone before me?”

“Fancy? I… my king, why do you ask these things?”

“It is only a game,” He intoned. “I am curious. So answer me.”

“Not truly, I think,” You played with the corner of a card. “I suppose I did know which men were… handsome.”

“Oh, naughty,” He smirked. “Go on.”

You played your card. You licked your lips and thought of another question. “Do you cheat at Horses?”

“No, but I did not warn you of my skill,” He grinned and his card was added to the stack. “And did you list Lord Barnes among these handsome men?”

Your face was hot. Not just from the wine but from his question. Your mouth was acrid as you opened it. Your voice caught in your throat. You swallowed and found it at last. “My king…”

“Your honesty will not rile me,” He leaned an arm on the table, “But your dishonesty should.”

You stared at him. The edges of your vision were fuzzy and your eyelids were heavy. “He is not unattractive.” You answered.

You didn’t look at your cards as you placed the next. Your voice quavered. “Why the wine?”

“To soften you.” He admitted. “To weaken you.”

“And these questions?” You prodded.

“Not your turn.” He set down his card. The king. “When I did make you cum before him, did you imagine it was him touching you?”

You frowned. You reached to your goblet. He hadn’t refilled it yet. “I do not want to play this anymore.”

“It is too late to forfeit. Now, I did play my card.” He stared at you; his blue eyes unwavering. “I told you, your honesty cannot offend me.”

You pressed your lips together and touched your cheek. You nodded. “Only…” Your voice was brittle. “Only for a moment.”

He sat back and waited. You took your turn. You stared at the table in shame. “I have no question. You may ask yours…” You looked up slowly. “For I know this was a trick indeed.”

“I do not ask to entrap you, my queen,” He slipped a card onto the table. “Because I do trust you. I ask because I am curious. I ask because I know your character. And I know his.”

“And you distrust him?” You set your cards down and touched your temples as the wine seeped into your brain.

“I… don’t know,” He said flatly. “You are drunk, wife.”

“I am,” You grumbled as you slumped and held your head.

“Then let us finish our game,” He pointed to your cards upon the table. “And I will see you to bed.”

[anchoredtether]

2020 Writing Roundup

Stolen from Rue! This was fun to reflect on!

Everyone is welcome to use this same format if they’d like to do the same!

~~~~~~~

S T A T S

Words written:

A whooping 232,867 - which is more than half of all the words I’ve written on Ao3 in the past seven years LOL. I guess I wrote to keep myself sane this crazy year.

O N G O I N G: S T A R T E D / U P D A T E D

AN UNORTHODOX APPROACH  (21,586 words)

First new fic of the year, this is my Shrek AU! I really adore this fantasy AU and it’s fun to explore such a crack concept and treat it seriously. It’s also a Pikelavar AU of sorts. 

DEFENDERS OF AURITA  (62,538 words)

Only updated my fantasy AU epic with one chapter this year, and I’m actually kind of sad I didn’t work on it more. It’s been hard to find muse for it when it hasn’t gotten nearly as much traction as other projects. 

PARADISE LOST  (13,013 words)

Another new fic started in June, this is a Zootopia AU! Heavily inspired from Zootopia, Beastars, and The Last of Us, it’s an apocalyptic future involving hybrids, people who have animal traits in order to combat a deadly strain of cancer. Plus I just love fox!Lance and rabbit!Pidge. 

SCALING BACK  (6,041 words)

New fic started in March, this is one I’ve had stewing on the backburner for quite awhile actually, and decided to start. It’s basically canon but Lance is actually a merman and hiding it from the team. It surprisingly fixes a ton of plot holes and fits with canon narrative. 

SHATTER AND TESSELLATE  (19,661 words)

This new project kind of took over my life if you couldn’t tell from all the art I’ve cranked out this past year for it. Oddly enough the idea just kind of hit me one day in March. I think Rue’s “worst timelines” got me thinking along those lines and I came up with the idea of Honerva seeing into the future and kidnapping the future paladins and turning them galra to prevent Voltron from defeating the Empire. So it’s a Galra AU but in the worst way possible. 

SIX IMPOSSIBLE THINGS (7,243 words)

Another new fic started in August, this Wonderland AU I’ve had notes and ideas for since 2018 or something. And it’s hilarious because I thought of Lance being the Cheshire cat long before Pike existed. Thanks to lots of brainstorming on Discord I’ve figured out a lot more worldbuilding for this AU and I can’t wait to expound on it. 

SLIDING LEFT MAKES MR. RIGHT (2,788 words)

Crack Tinder AU which says I posted in 2020 but I think I wrote it in November/December of 2019. This is a oneshot and it’s taking me forever to finish because it’s hard for me to write short things lol.

THE VACANT ETHER (31,121 words)

This is from the Stories in the Dark bang back in October 2019 and I’m still working to finish it. Post s8, horror, cosmic Reaper AU. This is a favorite AU of mine because of how nicely it fixes and explains all the plot holes of s8.

WHAT TIDES MAY BRING (20,704 words)

The Mer AU that Rue and I started writing last year! I really adore this AU and the Plance family feels it has, and sadly I’ve been slacking on my end with writing the next chapter but I hope to get more content in before MerMay this year. 

WHERE SAPPHIRE ROSES GROW (31,101 words)

I wrote a lot this year for my Beauty and the Beast AU. I’m quite pleased I finally got to the part where Lance learns Pidge is a girl because that’s when things start moving into motion (and obviously the romance starts developing, but still not for awhile yet because I’m a sucker for slow burns).

WHERE THE SUN MEETS THE OCEAN  (8,620 words)

I barely touched my Atlantis AU this year. This is another AU that doesn’t get as much love so it’s hard to find muse for it at times. 

R E F L E C T I O N S

Best title

I am really fond of Shatter and Tessellate. Not only does it sound pretty and gives great imagery but it’s symbolic of how the paladins are broken and put back together. 

Worst title

Probably Paradise Lost. It’s unoriginal (I stole it from the book by John Milton) though it fits the themes of the fic. But I also couldn’t think of anything better and I do find it funny that shortened it becomes PL which is like Pidge/Lance.

Best/worst last line

Best: from Where Sapphire Roses Grow: 

She opened her eyes to see Lance looking up at her with his captivating irises as brilliant a blue as the very sapphire rose that cursed him, eyes that were still human.

“I swear to you Lance… I will figure out a way to break your curse.” 

Worst: from Paradise Lost:

“Please…” she says in a muffled voice between sobs. “I can't - I can't do this alone."

“You won't have to,” he promises softly as he holds her close. “I'm here. I'm right here..."

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

I wrote uhhh.... way more. Than I thought possible considering all the stress that happened this year. I started six new fics and progressed a ton in others. 

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

This is a hard one to choose... but based on the content I covered this year for the fic as opposed to the fic itself, I’d have to say Where Sapphire Roses Grow. It’s so fun writing feral Lance and him protecting Pidge from the wolves was one of my favorite scenes to write this year. 

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

By a freaking landslide, Shatter and Tessellate. This really caught me off guard - I never thought this fic would be so popular, especially considering it starts out as a kid fic of sorts (paladins are all early teens at first) and most people don’t like kid fics. It’s also quite dark and highkey horror? So I’m shocked it’s so well loved.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

By far The Vacant Ether. I thought it would gain a lot more traction considering everyone and their dog wants a s8 fix it fic, but then again TVE covers really dark topics and is technically a horror fic. So I shouldn’t be surprised it isn’t for everyone. But I am really happy with how it has turned out, even if less people read it. 

Story that could have been better?

All of them Hmm. I feel like Scaling Back could have been more imaginative, considering the second chapter mostly follows the events of a canon episode with little divergence. 

Sexiest story?

None of them have really gotten to that point yet... though I have been working on some future steamy scenes for some fics. If I had to pick one though probably Where the Sun Meets the Ocean because Pidge ogles Lance in that one. 

Saddest story?

Yikes this is a hard one. I think I have to say Shatter and Tessellate, because not only does that one cover death and kidnapping, but metamorphis and body horror. And it’s all the more sadder because they’re just kids. 

Most fun?

I think the one most fun to write is Where Sapphire Roses Grow. I love the time period, I love monster!Lance, I love Pidge and Lance bickering, there’s just so many good points to it. Plus BatB is a classic I loved and grew up with as a kid so it’s really fun to write out the themes I love. 

Story with single sweetest moment?

I think Lance comforting Katie in Shatter and Tessellate when she asks him to call her by Pidge from now on fits this one. Lance and Pidge have a lot of little moments like this in this fic but this one in particular is very tender. 

“Pidge is cute,” he finally says as he nervously rubs his wrist. “Reminds me of Pokemon.”

She makes a small sound which he thinks is an attempt at a laugh and turns her head to face him, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s where Matt got it from, actually.”

He smiles at her. “Is Matt your brother?”

She nods. “I’ve always loved owls, but I had a hard time saying it when I was learning how to talk. I watched Matt play enough video games that I could say ‘Pidgey’ though, and so I started calling any owl I saw as Pidgey. At some point the nickname Pidge stuck.”

Hardest story to write?

Easily The Vacant Ether. It covers a lot of heavy and dark topics and it’s hard to really nail the horror vibe sometimes. But also Sliding Left Makes Mr. Right solely because I can’t write short one-shots to save my life LOL.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Not really? Aside from just... cranking out a ton. I suppose starting 6 new fics can count as taking a risk. Keeping up with all my projects is also a project but I somehow manage to do it.

Proudest Achievement:

I think Shatter and Tessellate reaching so many kudos and hits. I seriously was not expecting that. 

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Just keep writing I guess. I do have two ambitious plans, to finish Not All Pain Heals, my Teen Wolf fic that is long overdue to be finished, as well as The Vacant Ether which is the fic I have planned out the most and would be easiest to finish. 

[holy-honeybees]

Snowdrift

AO3

Rating: T+ (for swearing)

Summary: Three friends and  their dog get lost in a snowstorm while investigating the paranormal. Amidst swirling flurries of white, some lose their way and get lost in their memories, others lose sight of their friends and loved ones, and an unforgiving winter quickly fills in the footprints one would follow to get back home.

A/N: I started this back in November but sadly never finished the work. I was thinking of holding off till it started to snow again, but figured now was as good a time as any to try and finish this.The title is taken from Snail's House song "[snowdrift]" which you can check out here!

Ah, so that’s where I put the plot...

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter One

Chapter Five

In the dead of the night, when the world was quiet and all sound was swallowed by the ever-deepening snowdrifts, a lone figure moved through the dark. She glided over the top of the snow, her bare feet not disturbing a single snowflake as she drew closer to the unsuspecting occupants of the van. It was rare for anyone to come this way, least of all in winter. The long and lonely stretch of road she haunted was always avoided by the locals, even if the reason why only lived on in urban legends. Tales of sudden blizzards and passersby getting lost in the snow were enough to keep them at bay. The van’s passengers were the first visitors she’d had in a while. She had quickly picked up on their presence in the vastly empty landscape and had gone to investigate, so eager she’d almost given herself away. Even though she was sure she’d been spotted, the interlopers seemed to take no heed of her presence, and had continued on their journey as far as they could. She had observed them from a distance, keeping out of sight as they frolicked and played without a care in the world.

She despised them for it.

They were an odd little group, much stranger than anything she had seen pass through these parts before. There was a dog that was far more than what it seemed, and she had scarcely believed her eyes even after seeing its monstrous transformation. She didn’t know what the creature was, but she instinctively knew it was dangerous and made note to avoid it. The ghost that travelled with them surprised her even more. She had never encountered anyone like herself before, but she didn’t think it was common for the dead to keep the living company. She didn’t think it was fair either. He got to carry on as if he were still breathing, and she was stuck in this barren, frozen wasteland, reliant on the too few and far between visitors. The wind whipped more violently around her in response, pulling at her long white hair and nightgown as she refocused on her task.

The two that she was most interested in were the mortals. The power she sensed in the blue-haired woman intrigued her, but the young man was simply irresistible. In secret, she had exerted her influence over them, tugged here and there, getting a feel for what memories might come loose. While the monster was immune and the ghost resistant to her sway, she was certain the two humans wouldn’t be able to fight back. It appeared someone had already messed with the poor girl’s head, and many memories, old and new, were on the forefront of the young woman’s mind. The boy’s memories surfaced just as readily, almost eagerly responding to her meddling, as if she were travelling along a well-worn path. This was almost going to be too easy. It had been a long, long time since anyone had come her way, and she wasn’t about to ignore such a perfect opportunity when it presented itself.

If her cold heart had still beat in her chest, it would have been pounding in excitement as she continued to drift silently over the snow, circling the van. She could feel a protective barrier all around the vehicle, sure to have prevented her from breaching the exterior had she not needed permission to enter in the first place. She peered in through the window, the glass frosting at her touch. The occupants within, unaware of what was waiting for them outside, peacefully slumbered. Now, she just had to lure them out. She scratched at the door with icy fingers, her nails scraping against the exterior of the van, and patiently waited. A smile stretched across her lips, turned blue from the cold years ago, as she heard someone begin to stir. She would have taken a special delight in tearing this close knit group apart, even if she hadn’t been hungry.

And she was so very hungry.

---

Arthur squinted at the brightly glowing screen of his cell phone, hoping that if he stared at it long enough, he might be able to turn back the time. After a couple minutes of glaring proved fruitless however, he conceded that it was still midnight, and he wasn’t falling asleep again anytime soon. He wondered if something had woken him up this time or if his body had simply decided that two hours of sleep was enough for one night. Letting out a defeated sigh, he tossed his phone to the side. He knew he would drive himself crazy checking the time for every minute he couldn’t fall asleep. Some nights, being unable to sleep made Arthur frustrated to the point that he wanted to cry. He hated the countdown to morning, recalculating how much sleep he would get if he fell asleep right now every time he glanced at the clock, the number dwindling away to nothing as the sun began to rise. Just as bad were the nights where he did manage to fall asleep, only to wake a couple hours later somehow feeling even more tired than before. Like now, when his mind was hopelessly hazy and the exhaustion ran bone deep. He’d only managed a few meager hours of rest over the past couple of days. Last year, he had purposefully shunned sleep in order to put more hours into the manhunt for his missing best friend. Even then, the nights where he had been forced to take a break by Lance or Vivi were plagued with nightmares and anxieties, vague feelings of guilt he couldn’t quite place. Although Lewis had since been found and forgiveness granted, Arthur’s sleeplessness was almost habitual at this point, even without the aid of lingering fears and a guilty conscience.

His eyes roamed the dimly lit interior of the van, the only source of illumination the playback menu for A Nightmare Before Christmas still running on his open laptop screen. He toed the lid of the computer shut with one of his Chucks, plunging the van into darkness and cutting off the orchestral melody that had been softly playing in the background. The humming of the space heater and Vivi’s light snoring filled the void, though Arthur could still pick out the sound of the snowstorm raging outside. He realized then that the heavy feeling of his body wasn’t just fatigue, but that Vivi had draped an arm and leg over top of him as she slept, somehow undisturbed by his fidgeting. His cheeks heated at her close proximity, but he relaxed somewhat when a quick glance around the back of the van showed that no one else had seen them. He couldn’t imagine Lewis would be too happy to see his ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend cozied up together. Vivi was notoriously cuddly and had a tendency to cling to whoever was closest in her sleep, and tonight, that happened to be Arthur. He had been trying to avoid this exact situation, afraid of what the others might think. They all had accepted Vivi’s tendency to latch onto others in her sleep long ago, but it felt different, wrong even, since Lewis and Vivi started dating, especially after the cave. He’d done his best to keep his distance even as he craved the physical affection. He loved both his friends very much, and Arthur was ashamed to admit that he had been a bit jealous when they’d started dating. The last thing he wanted was for Lewis to believe that Arthur himself had wanted to push him off the cliff because of it. Mystery had explained that the mechanic’s negative feelings had made him more susceptible to the influence of whatever that thing was back in the cave, but had assured them all that Arthur’s actions were outside of his control. The mechanic couldn’t let go of his guilt over the role he’d played in his friend’s untimely demise though, wondering just how innocent he really was. It made him doubt Lewis’s offered forgiveness, wondering when it would be taken back, if something like this could wreck their tenuously rebuilt friendship.

Way to go, idiot. That kind of thinking is sure to help you get back to sleep, Arthur chastised himself. He sighed deeply, struggling through his grogginess to push away the unhappy thoughts clouding his mind. Instead, the mechanic did his best to relax into Vivi’s embrace, too tired to move, trying to appreciate the closeness while he could. It wouldn’t be such a bad way to spend the night, Arthur decided. He didn’t always mind not being able to sleep. Sometimes, when he had something to do or someone to talk to, anything to take his mind off his insomnia or whatever was keeping him awake, it could almost be pleasant. He’d long ago been banned from working on personal projects at night though, after the time Lance had caught him holding a blowtorch the wrong way at four in the morning, with Vivi happy to enforce the restriction. However, Lewis seemed to stick around at night more often than not lately. Arthur knew for a fact that it was lonely to be awake when everyone else was sleeping, but still had been surprised when the ghost had started to keep him company in the early hours of the morning. Months ago, when the glares directed at the mechanic had lessened into sparing glances and they found they could once again occupy the same room at the same time, Lewis had finally approached him.

Their first conversation was awkward and stilted, and Arthur was sure he’d said something to make the specter hate him even more. But Lewis was there again the next night, and the next, and continued to stay behind and visit night after night. Speaking together got easier, and they swapped stories of what they would do to keep themselves busy at night when the Mystery Skulls weren’t together. Lewis frequently found himself baking, occasionally doing extra prep work at the restaurant. Arthur found himself staying up using his laptop to research the latest case or cryptid that Vivi wanted to check out. They used each other as sounding boards for new recipes and robotic designs. It was almost like the way things used to be. By unspoken agreement, they didn’t talk about the cave, though Arthur had a feeling that Lewis was just patiently waiting for him to be ready. Even ghosts needed to occasionally rest and recharge though, and Lewis was presently nowhere to be found. While the mechanic took the opportunity to enjoy the comfort of one of his closest friends, he was disappointed the other was absent. Left alone to his thoughts, Arthur alternated between staring at the roof of the van and the backs of his eyelids. He could practically feel time dragging by as he mentally drafted plans to fix the latest dent in the van. Relief swept over him as his eyelids finally began to droop shut of their own accord, when he was suddenly jolted awake by a scratching at the back door to the van.

“Mystery…?” Arthur mumbled softly. The only reply he received was more scrabbling from outside, and he wondered if that had been what had woken him up in the first place. Arthur gave a cursory glance around the back of the van, still not seeing anyone but Vivi nestled beside the massive pile of blankets she’d accumulated. He worried that the dog had locked himself out of the van after stepping outside. Mystery may have been a powerful kitsune, but could still be thwarted by devices that required opposable thumbs to use. Arthur had told him before not to paw at the door though, that it would scratch the paint, and Mystery was usually more vocal about his demands to be let back inside. Something must be wrong, but in his sleep deprived state, the mechanic didn’t have the energy to think it over. Instead, he carefully extracted himself from the haphazard limbs Vivi had tossed over him in their sleep, edging towards the rear doors of the van to peer through the window outside. It was dark, and Arthur could barely make anything out beyond the heavy snowfall that was coming down like static on a television screen. He stepped out of the van, gently closing the door behind him, unable to hear that it didn’t click shut over the moaning winds. He quickly zipped up his vest against the chill and briefly thought about grabbing his hoodie, before discarding the idea, not wanting to let any more heat escape the van than what was absolutely necessary. He was sure this wouldn’t take long anyways, and the faster he did find Mystery, the sooner he could get back inside where it was warm and hopefully get back to sleep. He shouldn’t even need to try and wake Vivi up. But even outside, the dog was still nowhere to be seen, though Mystery must have been scratching at the back door just moments ago.

“Mystery?” Arthur called, his fatigued mind struggling to sense of anything. The mechanic blearily scanned his surroundings, trying to rub the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, before he caught a glimpse of a white shape moving quickly away.

“Mystery, wait! What’s wrong?” Arthur shouted, his voice muffled by the snowstorm and apparently unheard by the kitsune who continued to move towards the horizon. He quickly began to follow after the figure as it began to blend into the white flurry and disappear. Even as his mind conjured ridiculous images of yetis and other untold dangers waiting for him, the mechanic continued his pursuit, worried for his friend. Mystery had been acting strangely yesterday, and something had clearly been bothering him, even if he wouldn’t say what. Arthur called for the kitsune again, but the words were ripped away by the wind before he could scarcely hear them himself. The tired mechanic trudged through the deep snow, ignoring the vague thrill of alarm at the back of his mind that something wasn’t right, and kept walking. His head still muzzy from lack of sleep, he didn’t notice that there were no pawprints on the path he followed, but the snow was quickly filling in the footprints he’d left behind. Back in the van, unseen by the mechanic, a white dog was buried under a pile of blankets, ears twitching at phantom voices that seemed to call for him in his sleep. Vivi reached out for her friend, instinctively seeking comfort and warmth as the temperature began to drop despite the best efforts of the space heater, a draft whistling in through the crack in the unlatched door. Finding no one there, she curled up tighter, a small frown disturbing her once relaxed features as she fell into a more troubled sleep.

[neven-ebrez]

The continuing saga of narrative betrayal...

Back when SPN S13 aired I compared it a lot to Star Wars: TLJ. So I was very interested to see specifically how hand holding and touch would correspond to the final Star Wars movie. And OH BOY is the new movie a lot like SPN S15! There’s only one problem. The final Star Wars movie made a HUGE narrative betrayal. I’m on mobile so I can’t put a read more here but STAR WARS: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS BENEATH THIS PARAGRAPH!!

Touch as healing was a very important part of SW:TROS. Touch is about forging connections and mending that which has been broken. Touching, taking someone’s hand, is choosing them and choosing to care for them. We see it when Finn takes Rey’s hand in chapter 7. We see it when Rey doesn’t take Kylo Ren’s hand in chapter 8. And we see it when Rey puts her hand over Ben’s when he heals her near the end of chapter 9. At the heart of this entire series is how students become teachers. The past becomes the present then the present becomes the future. So onto narrative betrayal.

Using the Force to heal was visually introduced this week in The Mandalorian. And we now know why the episode was released early, because this ability would play a key narrative role in the final movie. Rey showcases this ability early in the film. She is rewarded when she does. Then she showcases it again after fighting Kylo Ren. She stabs him fatally then decides to save him. Two things are established: 1.) Healing is good and positive, and 2.) healing does not cost the healer their life. This is important. In typical student becomes the master format, structurally Kylo Ren (as Ben Solo/Skywalker) must then use it to save Rey. In TLJ they each saw a different future for the other. This vision of the future is experienced through the touching of hands. When Rey and Ben reach for each other a profound connection is made.

In TLJ Snoke says he forced their connection, but in TROS we see them maintain it. It’s much of the focus of the final two movies. They find each other with it. This living Force connection is said to have not been seen in a very long time. Rey teaches Kylo everything he needs to save her and then he does. And here is where our narrative betrayal comes and fortunately there’s enough of the ghost narrative here for me to make a solid enough guess why.

I believe when Carrie Fisher passed away unexpectedly that the final movie was forced to rewrite several key structural things. And one of those things is why Ben Solo had to instead die. In Dark Youth/Light Youth tales, the Dark Youth is usually saved by learning something explictly from the Light Youth. The LY is positioned to teach and the DY is positioned to redeem themselves by learning the lesson. This is sadly not what Star Wars executed. Ben touches Rey, heals her, then he kisses her and dies. It’s not *quite* as bad as what VLD did (at least Ben gets a heroic moment and we see him learn) with Lotor and Allura, but it’s the exact same relative betrayal. Ben was supposed to revive Rey in sacrifice, (maybe not kiss Rey, it doesn’t matter there one way or another; saving/redeeming =/= romance), and die temporarily but then get resurrected by all the dead Jedi. Instead we only hear the dead Jedi in one sequence when Rey fights Palpatine.

Since Leia doesn’t disappear until Ben disappears, this structurally links the change in narrative and gives it context. I think the kiss probably wasn’t in there originally but was added after the edits were made. Everything between Finn and Rey also feels edited as a result. The red flag for this is when Finn tells Rey he has something to tell her before they (almost) die in the quick sinking pit. He doesn’t get to tell her in time tho. Then! They survive. Rey prompts Finn to tell her what he was about to say but he says he can’t in front of Poe. This is never bookended. Rose is also sidelined without a real reason why. If originally they planned to continue the Rey/Finn romance on Finn’s part then this would make sense. In TLJ Rose’s structural purpose was to make Finn fight for more than just Rey. He never stops prioritizing her tho. The lack of bookend to Finn’s silenced confessional to Rey in TROS is a dead giveaway something was dropped/altered there tho. I can only guess this fragment of the final film’s ghost narrative remained in due to the fact that filming was likely already complete for this scenes and that suitable redubbing could not be made out of the plot situation they were currently in.

I just finished watching TLJ and we see Rey’s reaction to Finn caring for Rose’s injuries and she gives this a sad smile. I think originally Rose’s affection for Finn was probably more resistance hero worship and that her own arc was about learning to be her own hero. I think the romantic angle there was probably supposed to remain one sided. All this clarification seems to be dropped. Finn’s pursuit of Rey, to mimic Ben’s physical pursuit still shows up in several places tho. With the other ex-stormtrooper, Finn follows Rey across the dangerous water as she fights Ben. I think in the original script this character was likely Finn’s sister. Rey is seen protecting Finn from Ben but otherwise Finn’s physical pursuit of Rey here makes little sense unless we consider that originally it was supposed to emotionally lead into something else. Finn was always gonna be left behind whether he was on the shore or beside her.

Another thing that struck me as odd were the final bows. We see several romantic pairs. Some are unions (first queer onscreen SW kiss) while Poe’s is a story of rejection (bless). Then Poe and Finn are suddenly back in scene together for when Rey approaches. Since Poe was just left with his old flame in the shot before, this union should initially just be between Finn and Rey. Where Poe stopped, Finn kept going. So Poe being there again so quick makes no sense.

Both Finn/Rey and Ben/Rey are the last series’ key structural relationships. Equally important is Poe become a leader, a position he goes onto share with Finn. Of Rey’s two relationships one gets resolved structurally, while the other... does not. And the only good explanation I got for it is that I believe Carrie Fisher’s passing facilitated a rewrite that was unavoidable. In legacy, I believe the series decided to rewrite a good chunk of the final movie in order to focus more on Leia’s overall impact in the series as the past defined it.

For Voltron: Legendary Defender, Lance had a similar arc in the original S8 ghost narrative. Lance pursued Allura, then he was supposed to give her up to let her choose (and save) Lotor. Now. If you ask me if TROS did a better job with their editing than VLD S8 did I’d say YES. By a MILE. That doesn’t change the fact that each of these narratives ended up changing the exact same story now. And like with VLD, traces of the original remain and just couldn’t be removed at key points. If I had to guess, I’d say some Lando and Leia stuff was also removed, likely because filming never made it to that point. The awkwardness of Lando alone talking to the ex-stormtrooper girl feels strange, like some context there is otherwise missing. Earlier Lando tells Finn to give Leia his love and Finn tells Lando to tell her himself. Then he never gets the chance. It’s another missing bookend, dropped. When all the fighters are gathered for the final fight, it seems like maybe originally Leia was supposed to have gathered them through using the force to speak to them and convince them to fight. And Leia was supposed to do this by traveling with Lando.

I think originally Leia was probably supposed to teach Rey the healing, too. There is otherwise a focus on Leia as a fully trained Jedi and also on Leia as teacher. Having to drop and repurpose these plot elements, focusing on a Leia legacy narrative, over a full and complete “dead Jedi come together” narrative is reflected in the movie, again, still retaining both storylines. I think originally more dead Jedi should have appeared alongside Luke at different points. This conclusion comes from looking at the framing of Luke against unaccounted for narrative space.

And I’m going to be rewatching this movie tomorrow so I’ll try to get some photos about what I’m talking about. It’s clearly there tho. Finn being force sensitive is also dropped.

The comparison here to what VLD S8 did is uncanny. Unlike with VLD, I don’t think the narrative betrayal here was malicious. Just unfortunate and sad. Unlike with VLD, I think TROS managed to save most of itself tho. I at least enjoyed it. The trend of not letting the Dark Youth learn and redeem themselves and LIVE is a disturbing one, however. All this is just my theory btw. I knew Carrie Fisher managed to film some of the movie and I was curious going in as to how they were going to keep her in and maintain their original story. Well, obviously they couldn’t. I like all the movies, but I wouldn’t say I have a favorite character tho (except the porgs). So all of my opinion here comes without trying to see things a certain way. I have no shipping lens here. I just have an eye for things that lack narrative symmetry and/or thematic follow through.

Anyway. If you found parts of the movie to be strange or missing in some way, I think my explanation here may help fill in some blanks. And regardless of the reason the storyline exists the way it does, the trend of killing off the character that is supposed to be redeeming themselves isn’t a good look.

[EDIT] As soon as I wrote this I went looking for other opinions on this and found this Polygon article! This explains so much and explains why Leia didn’t have a new look for the movie. Her footage is repurposed from footage from Chapter 7/8. Considering everything, it’s amazing they salvaged as much of the original storyline (Leia as teacher) as they did.

I’m going to rewatch the movie assuming all this should have happened to see how much sense it now makes. This is just what I picked up on by watching one time.

[EDIT2] Okay then there’s this. It confirms what I thought. A person in the thread below this tweet mentions how Finn’s Force connection here could explain why other storm troopers put down their weapons in their respective village raids. Like, they could hear Finn’s distraught inner voice when it was all happening. It’s why Kylo Ren slowly turns and looks at Finn in chapter 7. Finn frees other stormtroopers in other words and the movie drops this off his storyline completely. First Finn runs, then he learns to be a rebel, then he frees his fellow soldiers. I still think Finn’s pursuit of Rey was originally supposed to also be romantic, but more than that she is ultimately his teacher.

I actually think the original script was probably more Finn/Poe friendly, with Finn ready to help Poe (using the Resistance) to free more stormtroopers. Poe learning Finn’s secret: his Force sensitivity, after all, is also cut, against the entire start of the movie showing them as a team. Poe was essential to Finn’s initial escape. They needed each other. Then Poe is essential to Finn’s new mission. They choose each other, completely. I believe that’s the proper bookend we should have gotten there. And it explains Oscar’s PR commentary on Disney company.

I’m.... there’s little they could have done here to salvage what I’ve pieced together of the original script. Not without Carrie. It would have looked great tho. Without her as (continual) teacher to Rey, much of the movie, the original script, sadly fell apart. Seeing how Finn/Poe as a narrative thread didn’t rely much on Carrie I think the editing here is a bit more malicious. I can’t prove that tho. I can only tell some of the outline of what originally should have happened. Finn gives up pursuit of Rey for choosing a mission with Poe. If TROS is to be compared to VLD S8, this feels like the equivalence of editing out Sheith.

[EDIT3] My bow commentary here is off. I remembered things wrong there. I’ve struck several things for my original post. I have a lot of screenshots now tho so I’ll write something more on this later once more time has past. Maybe JJ Abrams will talk about the rewrite process tho. I doubt the Finn/Poe stuff will be discussed, but I also don’t think it was ever intended to be textual, just subtextually coded. The repurposed Leia as teacher stuff tho, that may get discussed publicly. That one Hobbit actor looks to be written in to cover Leia’s intended plot explanations for why certain stuff is happening. Maz’ involvement, along with Rose’s was much regaled to this as well. Whatever their original storylines were, I believe they unfortunately got axed in the rewrite.

[azvolrien]

Water Horses - Chapter Two

In which some plans are laid and we find out why Asta’s back was sore.

~~~

           The pain in Asta’s back had dulled from a knife-blade to a steady ache when she woke, but an equally steady quiver in her gut and her hands had arrived to join it. She sat up, rubbing her face – another sharp pain lanced across her back with the movement – before she twisted around to perch on the edge of the bed, lowered her feet to the floor, took a deep breath, and lurched upright. The room spun; she pressed both hands against the wall, taking deep, shaking breaths until it stilled.

           For a moment she looked over her shoulder, frowning at the unfamiliar room. None of the chambers in Lady MacArra’s house had been round with drystone walls and a chimney in the centre like the hub of a wheel. Then the previous day came back to her with a vengeance and she almost had to sit down again. But it was true – she, a mere scribe untrained in any kind of survival or combat skills, had stolen her construct from her new owner’s desk and fled the MacArra estate outside Duncraig, riding full-pelt throughout the day all the way down Loch Gorm to the ‘haunted’ broch of Dun Ardech. A small, breathy laugh escaped her.

           The smell of cooking and the sound of Roan whistling to herself drifted up from downstairs. Asta took another deep breath and, leaning heavily on the wall, followed them down to the main room.

           Roan looked up from the frying pan she had balanced on a stand over the fire and grinned. “Well, look who’s up – good afternoon, sleepy-head!” She tapped her wooden spoon on the edge of the pan. “I’ve got eggs here just now, and I’ll be starting on some fish in a minute. Both, one or neither? There’s some bread as well if you’d rather that.”

           Asta opened her mouth to answer and collapsed to all fours at the foot of the stairs.

           “Whoa, hey!” Roan set the frying pan down on the hearthstone and crossed the room at a run to help her back to her feet. “Easy there, I’ve got you – just give me your arm and – oh, gods.”

           “Hah?” Asta twisted her head to the side, trying to look down at her back. All she could make out was a blurry stripe of red on her shoulder, striking against the white linen of her tunic, but the implications struck her all too clearly. “Ha-oh. Oh.” Her stomach lurched; she clamped a hand over her mouth.

           “Hey, look at me!” Roan gripped her upper arms in both hands and ducked her head to look in her eyes. “Deep breaths. Now…” She took her own advice. “…I think you should let me have a look at your back for you.”

           Asta swallowed her reluctance and nodded. “Yes. I-I think that might be a good idea.”

           Roan helped her to the nearest chair and, once satisfied her guest wasn’t about to keel over again, left her to get ready while she went to rummage in one of the cupboards over by the kitchen. Asta awkwardly pulled her bloodstained tunic off over her head and knelt on the chair, folding her arms over the back just as Roan returned with a metal box painted with a symbol Asta vaguely recognised as belonging to the devotees of a local medicine god.

           “I won’t sugar-coat it for you,” said Roan as she took a pair of scissors from the box. “There’s no ‘probably’ about it – this is going to hurt. But you will feel better afterwards, I swear.” She began to cut away the bandages Asta had haphazardly wound around her chest. Asta clenched her jaw as the scabs tore away with the cloth and warmth began to trickle down her back again.

           Roan’s breath hissed through her teeth. “What excuse,” she said in a low, dangerous voice, “did they give you for this?”

           Asta sighed and closed her eyes, as much against the memory as the sight. “Daro – the man you spoke to – called it ‘pre-emptive discipline’. He wanted… to be sure I knew my place now that his grandmother wasn’t around to protect me.”

           Roan muttered a curse, tipped something from a small glass bottle onto a clean cloth, and began to clean away the blood – and other fluids – oozing from the ugly whip-furrows on Asta’s back, criss-cross over her skin from her waist to her shoulders. As promised, it hurt; Asta choked off a scream. Roan silently handed her a scrap of leather to bite down on and kept cleaning.

           “Stormhaven wound tincture,” she said once she had finished and tied a fresh, much neater dressing over the scars. “Hurts like hell, right enough, but it’ll have burnt out whatever sickness was taking hold in those and they’ll heal much quicker now. Sit tight for a minute – I have a clean tunic you can borrow, and then we can eat.”

           She brought another woollen tunic – a little too big for Asta, as Roan was a few inches taller – down from upstairs and they ate in silence, side-by-side on one of the couches.

           “They weren’t planning to sell you, then,” said Roan, putting her plate down once she had finished. “Slaves with that many whip marks don’t sell for as much. Buyers are less willing to go for someone they think will be a troublemaker.”

           “No, I don’t think they were,” said Asta quietly. Also as promised, her back already felt a lot better; the fire in it had died down to a mere warmth. “I heard somebody say that they didn’t have slavery in the Sea Lochs before they were annexed into the Empire.”

           “Oh, they did,” Roan assured her. “It’s been practised for centuries – not much room for moral superiority there. But it didn’t become the sort of industry it is now until then, no – there just wasn’t the population to support it. Well-off families would have a few household thralls, but it wasn’t such a pillar of trade. But today, a certain Lady MacArra the Younger and her children are neck-deep in it.”

           “How do you know so much about it?”

           Roan closed one hand around her other wrist and stretched both arms above her head. “I have a degree in finance from the University of Duncraig. Economic History was a required course in my first year.” She glanced to the side, caught Asta’s stare, and grinned. “I wasn’t always a hermit.”

           “So you – what? You got tired of accounting and ran off to become a semi-feral sea witch?”

           “Aye, that’s about it.”

           “Maybe I should have done that…” Asta sighed and finished her eggs and fish. “So… speaking of history… Imperial law does have a few things to say about harbouring runaway slaves.”

           “Funny thing about Imperial law,” said Roan, gesturing with her fork. “It’s not as rigid as the lawmakers would want you to think, especially out here on the fringes. Generally, so long as you pay your taxes and aren’t actively plotting to assassinate anyone, the Empire is happy enough to leave you alone. Think you can manage the stairs?”

           Asta shifted her weight experimentally. Her back only twinged. “I think so.”

           “Then follow me up to the roof. There’s something I want to show you.”

           She waited until Asta had joined her on the high walkway before she pointed out to sea. “Do you see the island out there?”

           Asta shaded her eyes with one hand. “Yes, I think so. How far away is that?”

           “About ten miles, give or take.” Roan placed both hands on top of the stone rampart. “Technically, it’s within Imperial waters and subject to Imperial law. In practice, it doesn’t cause trouble so it gets quietly ignored. There’s a market that meets out there every few days; I take my sloop out to trade for a few necessities – bread, medicines and so on – and I’m not the only person who sails there. I’ve also seen ships from Stormhaven docking there. And by their laws, there are no slaves in Stormhaven. Step over their border,” she clicked her fingers, “and you’re a free woman. Might be worth seeing if any of those ships will give you passage south.”

           “Can they be trusted, though? If they’re smugglers?”

           “Not all of them,” admitted Roan, “but there are a few I’d vouch for. Besides, Stormhaveners tend to have… strong opinions about slavery. They might even give you passage for free if you explained the situation.”

           Asta nodded slowly. “I suppose it can’t hurt to ask,” she said, equally slowly. “When’s the next market?”

           “Day after tomorrow,” said Roan. “We can take the sloop over first thing and see what’s what.” She smiled. “So I’d better give you a proper tour of the place before that, eh?” 

           Although only Roan still called it home, Dun Ardech had been a village once, not just a broch, and a little of that still showed in its bones. Asta had not noticed the previous night, but a few outbuildings sat in the courtyard around the broch itself, still enclosed safely within the outer walls. A chicken coop sat against one wall, while a few tough little hens pecked through a small but healthy-looking vegetable garden. Roan pointed out one small drystone booth as the outhouse – “And it’s bloody freezing at this time of year!” – and another, bigger shed as the workshop where she prepared the various animal bones and skins she made use of, from her sealskin cloak and the reindeer fur that lay across her bed to the smaller pelts of foxes and rabbits she took out to sell at the island market. Outside the wall, a little way inland and sheltered in the lee of a rocky outcrop, there was even a reasonable equivalent to a bathhouse: another hut – drystone, inevitably – concealing a spring of comfortably warm water bubbling up from beneath the earth.

           “It’s not deep enough to get a proper soak,” Roan said as they walked back to the broch. “That’s one of the few things I do miss about Duncraig – that big bath complex near the University.”

           “I know it,” said Asta, nodding. It was one of few that allowed unaccompanied slaves to use it.

           “But it works for a warm scrub if you have a sponge or a cloth. All the deeper water around here is either salty, unbearably cold, or both.” Roan shaded her eyes, peering into the sun as it sank over the ocean. “They’ll be hauling out soon,” she muttered.

           “Who will?”

           “Come up to the top of the wall. You can get a better view of why we stay away from the water after dark.”

           A short flight of stairs brought them up to the top of the outer wall, with a clear view of the wide rock pavement between the broch and the sea. Roan sat down cross-legged, watching the sea. Asta gingerly copied her.

           “You might have noticed,” said Roan, “that the gate through the wall doesn’t actually have a gate in it. It’s just a kind of narrow, angular corridor inside the wall.”

           “I did notice, yes.”

           “That’s because it’s not supposed to keep people out.” She pointed down at the surf washing against the pavement. “It’s a defence against them.”

           Long, sleek forms heaved themselves from the water onto the rocks, their smooth hides – solid black, mottled grey, even a few reddish-brown ones – rippling with both blubber and muscle. They were more graceful on land than seals, but only a little, with long webbed toes ill-suited to walking and heavy whale-like tails that dragged behind them. One took exception to another that wandered too close; both reared up onto their stronger hind legs, hissing at each other and baring pointed teeth that suited a crocodile better than a mammal. And yet, Asta could see how they had come to be called water horses: apart from those terrible jaws, their long heads and arched necks were a similar shape, and each one bore a narrow strip of longer hair running down its back from between its ears.

           “They come closer if the tide is further in at the right time,” murmured Roan. “Easy enough to avoid if you know they’re out there, but you do have to time your fishing trips carefully. The mares tolerate each other if there’s enough food, but the stallions will square up to fight even outside the mating season. You see the biggest one, there in the middle?” The water horse she pointed at was half the size again of the next-largest, and its scarred pelt was a pale grey with black markings like leopard spots along its back.

           Asta nodded. “It’s hard to miss.”

           “I’ve seen him a lot over the last few years, usually with his herd around him. He seems to be the dominant stallion of this territory, however eich-uisge map their waters out. And I think – couldn’t swear to it, but I think – it was him who responded to my horn call last night.” She wrinkled her nose in a sort of affectionate grimace. “I call him Riabhach.”

           “R – sorry, ‘Reevack’?”

           “Riabhach. Sort of not quite touch the back of your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the ‘ch’ sound.”

           “Reevacckkh – sorry, I can’t quite get it.”

           Roan very carefully patted her shoulder. “You tried.”

           “They’d attack, then?” asked Asta “If we were to walk down to them.”

           “Absolutely. Like I said, they’re very territorial. But the gate’s too narrow for them – they’re not flexible enough to get around the corners. They stay out at sea while it’s light.”

           Asta nodded, trying to suppress her shivers as the sky dimmed. Roan heaved a sigh and stood up. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go back in and get the fire going.”

           The next day dawned to a hard frost and a dusting of snow on the hills looming above the headland. Roan changed the dressing on Asta’s back again and spent the rest of the day in quiet industry, heading out to check if the traps she set both in the water and on land had caught anything before returning to sort her catches – several fish and a grouse – and the rest of her goods bound for the island market. Asta made herself useful helping to pack everything into neat crates and bales, ready to load into makeshift panniers rigged across Pardus’s back and onto the boat when they got up early the next morning.

           The boat itself lived in a small shed, a few minutes’ walk up the coast where the rocks gave way to a narrow stretch of sand. Roan unlocked the doors and threw them wide with a theatrical flourish. “Ta-da!”

           Asta, not very familiar with such esoterica as boats, nodded appreciatively as seemed to be expected. Roan squeezed in around the side and shoved the boat out of the shed. It was about twenty feet long from prow to stern and roughly three feet wide, but despite its size it slid easily enough over the sand to the water.

           “Right!” said Roan, clapping her hands. “Let’s get the cargo aboard and we can be underway.”

           The boat did not really have a deck, just a couple of planks laid across the hull, but it still had a small ‘hold’ – more of a chest – near the mast into which all the goods – pelts, bones, and whatever foodstuffs Roan felt she could spare for trade – packed easily enough. Asta sealed the lid over the hold, dismissed Pardus back into its summoning stone, and at Roan’s insistent gesture stood back to let her step the mast and unfurl the sails by herself.

           “Did you build it yourself?” asked Asta.

           “Not from scratch, no,” said Roan, securing the mast in place. “But I did have to find it a new mast, and the figurehead’s my own touch as well.”

           Asta hadn’t noticed the figurehead. It did indeed fit in with what she had observed about Roan’s style: it was the skull of a water horse fixed to the prow, gazing fiercely ahead, while the white bone had been painted with flowing blue patterns like Roan’s tattoos. “You do seem to like… decorative animal skulls.”

           “What gave it away?” asked Roan, grinning as she fastened her sealskin cloak and settled the skull atop her head. “You can probably guess her name. Hop in – I’ll give us a shove.”

           Within minutes, the sails had caught the wind and the little sloop was skimming over the waves towards the island in the distance. Asta hunkered down and tried to stay out of the way of the boom.

           “This market we’re going to…” she said. Roan adjusted her grip on a rope and nodded to show she was listening. “How… how rough a sort of place is it?”

           “Well, it’s not exactly Siraki Square,” said Roan, “but it’s not the Black Vennel either. Stick close and you’ll be fine.”

           “Have you ever had trouble there?”

           “Once, near the beginning,” said Roan brightly. “Lad from up in Kaldrfjord tried to con me out of some good pelts, then gathered a bunch of his pals with big sticks to support his argument. Set me right off, and I never had any bother again.”

           “What do you mean, they set you off?”

           “Hmm…” Roan wrinkled her nose again, this time in thought. “D’you know what a berserker is?”

           Asta nodded warily. She had once seen one fighting in the Grand Arena, back in Kiraan before all her family’s trouble had started. The man – a blond-haired giant from distant Myrkfjord – had hacked his way with sword and axe through six opponents in a row, howling like a wild beast and completely heedless of the wounds he accumulated, before the arena marshals had finally managed to subdue him.

           “There are a lot of different theories about where it comes from,” continued Roan. “The traditional one is that it’s a blessing from Torravon, the Sea Loch goddess of war. Some people think that it’s inherited, or that there’s something in the water around here. The only thing I’m sure of is that I am one.” She caught the worry in Asta’s eyes and shot her a reassuring smile. “But a bit different to whatever flailing blood-soaked carnage-maker you’re picturing,” she added. “I don’t go into a battle-frenzy so much as a battle-focus. It’s… hard to describe. Hopefully you’ll never see it.”

           “…Is that another reason you live out here?”

           “It’s not at the top of the list, but it is on there. I hasten to add that I didn’t kill the Kaldrfjord crowd. Just sent them running scared.”

           “You’re an interesting skill-set, Roan. Accountancy, sailing, first aid, combat…”

           Roan shifted the tiller, adjusting their course slightly. “You’ve got your history, and I’ve got mine. Besides – my lifestyle leaves me with a fair amount of time for practising new skills.” She grinned again. “I do enjoy sailing, though.”

           It was a fine day for it, bright and crisp with a good wind, but even so the voyage out to the island took a couple of hours. Each-Uisge pulled up next to a wooden jetty at the south end of the island, and it wasn’t the first to do so. Many other small rowing and sailing boats had moored nearby, while a few bigger ships rode at anchor just offshore. A well-trodden path led inland from the jetty and towards the distant rumble of voices.

           Roan climbed out to tie the mooring ropes. “We might be in luck,” she said, nodding towards the ships. “You see the one furthest to the left, with the two masts? I know that ship – that’s Curlew. It’s a Stormhaven trader, and its captain is an upstanding sort. For a smuggler, at least.”

           Asta began unpacking the hold and passing the cargo up to Roan. “You really think they’ll just give me passage, no questions asked?”

           Roan just shrugged. “There’s only one way to know.”

~~~

Like if you also want to run away to become a semi-feral sea witch.

Asta doesn’t pronounce ‘Dun Ardech’ properly either. Try as she might, she just can’t get the ‘ch’ sound and it comes out as ‘Ardeck’. 

[funtryandthepaladudes]

Ok, I suddenly had this idea. I know most of us are happily done with VLD now but I just had this thing nagging in my mind and I felt compelled to share it. So, most of us agree, that this last season was less than satisfying, particularly in some character development, or just plot threads. However, what if that was deliberate? What if there is one last chapter of this story they need to tell, and it's not in comics?

So, even at the time that I watched it, something struck me as odd about the closing scene. Sure I understood the significance of the Allura shaped Nebula, but it just seemed to have a different tone than everybody else's epilogue shots. And then it hit me, it felt like an after credit scene, and not just any after credit scene, but one that could be hinting at a follow up. Remember not to long ago, when a Voltron movie was discovered to be future project, what if this wasn't meant to be a standalone unrelated, and possibly live action, movie, but is supposed to act as an ultimate finale with a Search for Spock-esque plot? (Which, from what I've heard isn't the best of the Trek movies, but that doesn't have to be a factor here. )

Now, indulge me a bit as I break down what this film could look like. I will warn you in advance, this is going to be incredibly biased and self indulgent, so my story will contain Plance, Kallura and Hunay, but also some discussion about some plot stuff, like Keith's connection to quintessence, what's the deal with the entity, stuff like that. If you like it, cool. If you don't, I can't help you, but maybe instead of telling how much my pretend movie sucks and how much I suck, stuff I am quite aware of, why don't you share your ideal closer movie, with your otps and hcs? I would love to see what you would like to see, so long as it doesn't involve attacking anybody else with differing opinions. And now, this insanity.  Warning it’s reaaaaallllly long. 

Edit: Here’s a link to the Next part.

(Note: I wrote the above earlier this morning on the way to church, and the rest below later in the afternoon, and at the moment of writing this note, I’ve been working on this for about two hours, and I am nowhere near finishing it. So I will be finishing this post somewhere around the first act of my goofy pretend movie synopsis (Which is much longer than a synopsis should be because I keep going into more and more details.) and continue this undertaking in a future post or posts, provided this website isn’t shut down. (In which case, find me on Dischord under Dappie.)

I would open this with something I like to call creative recap credits, think Sam Raimi’s Spiderman 2. Once this sequence came to an end it would bleed into an actual scene, our Heroes are gathered together for Allura Day as per usual, just catching up. This is where I would bring the audience up to speed on their character development, and set up some Major and sub-plots. Hunk is gushing about his and Shay’s wedding, but he’s having trouble picking the main cook for the reception (He can’t decide between Romelle’s great instincts and Vrepit Sal’s experience and seniority. This should serve as a comedic subplot, and that’s all I’m going to say about it unless anyone asks for me to expand on it. Honestly, it’s probably something that would wind up scrapped for time.) Hunk is insisting that they better make it there, even if there is a world ending catastrophe. Now from everybody’s response, except Keith we’ll get to him, we get a little more insight into our characters. Shiro is content, but would secretly like to have a little more adventure. Lance seems to be flirtatious again, however his flirtations are focused on a single target. The target in question, Pidge, is receptive, yet hesitant. While this conversation goes down, Keith suddenly looks off in a random direction and asks the others if they hear something. Everybody seems confused, and they tell him that they don’t hear anything. However, Keith is not reassured and declares that something isn’t right. He walks away from the table, with Lance making a quip I’d imagine, and goes in search of the sound, at which point, we also begin to hear what he’s hearing. A woman humming. He as he approaches the humming becomes a little clearer and more familiar. In fact, so familiar that he begins to doubt it’s real. But Lo and behold, he turns that corner and there she is! Allura alive and well. Keith is completely shocked and begins bombarding her with questions, but she just keeps humming, as if she can’t hear him. This raises some red flags within him, and he cautiously asks again. “Allura, it is you, right?” To which the humming finally stops, and in a jump-scare like thing abruptly turns towards him and screams “We’re running out of time!” Suddenly, Keith is bombarded with visions of random parts of the galaxy, finally settling on the Allura Nebula. And then Keith wakes up. 

Cut to the interior of a bedroom, a communication device is ringing. The couple, Shiro and Curtis, groan in annoyance. 

Shiro: Why would anybody be calling us this late?

Curtis: It’s obviously your boyfriend.

Shiro: Hilarious. 

Curtis: This isn’t even my best material. 

After a little more better written exchange, Shiro finally picks it up. It is in fact Keith, and he’s calling to tell him about this dream he just had. We learn that he’s been having dreams like this for something going on a year now, and that the incident we saw in the Dream happened a few months ago, minus the whole Allura thing. Shiro advises him to maybe try to find out what exactly those flashes are, and although Keith is a bit doubtful, the recurring dreams do remind of the time he could somewhat sense the Blue Lion, only on a bigger scale. After their conversation end, Curtis asks if Keith had another cosmic dream. After, Shiro confirms this, he tells him about how Keith is finally going to try to find out what the visions contain, which might result in some kind of galactic road. Curtis asks him if he’s tempted to go, but Shiro denies that, claiming he’s had enough adventures to last a lifetime before kissing him and snuggling up to him. However, you can see from their facial expression that Shiro’s not completely telling the truth, and that Curtis doesn’t really believe him. 

In our next scene, we see Pidge welcoming a new batch of students to the premises. As she is making her grand speech she is suddenly interrupted by an officer, I’m thinking an alien, telling her that he is here to see her. She tells the officer that she’s in the middle of something, but the officer says that he told her say it was urgent. Pidge rolls her eyes as she sighs exasperatedly, and tells Chip to take over for her, who had seemingly been standing behind her the whole time. He eagerly takes over, and begins by asking who would like to try out the anti-gravity room? 

A note on Chip, I’d like to imagine him as a lovable little dink that instantly endears himself to all that meet him. He serves as Pidge’s little assistant, and is constantly updating his database on all scientific breakthroughs, but personality-wise is just fascinated by everything, and adores everyone, but none more than Dr. Pidge/Ms. Katie, his primary creator, and his Uncle Lance. My dream cast would be Sam Lavignino, aka CatBug, or someone with a similar energy and instant likability, slightly older sounding than the CatBug character. We’ll get back to him. Be afraid.

Pidge approaches the person who summoned by saying ‘For Quiznack’s Sake, you can’t keep on declaring an emergency every time you want to hang out with me, Lance! I had to make Chip take over my orientation tour for me. Do you know how irresponsible I’ll look to these new cadets now that dumped my job on my childlike android, right on the first day’

‘Well, if you don’t want me to pull the emergency card, then you should stop responding to it. And besides, you wind up having Chip substitute for most of the semester anyway, because you would rather be tinkering than lecturing. And they’re in good hands, he knows your material frontwards and back, plus he has better people skills than you.’

‘How dare you.’ she responds in fake outrage, at which they both laugh. ‘So why are you here. what’s the ‘urgent matter’ that made you abandon your farm.’ 

‘I’ll have you know, I’m here on official business too. You’re mother had another breakthrough in agricultural science, and I wanted to see if I could put this knew knowledge to use at my farm.’

‘Uhuh,’ she responds.

‘As for the urgent matter, I heard that some nerd was working on her birthday, which seriously comes into conflict with my plans to pamper and spoil her, and that’s just unforgivable.’

‘For the last time, I don’t need to do anything special for my birthday, I’m an adult!’ 

‘Then I guess you don’t want to see the ancient piece of technology, I accidentally unearthed.’ He says as he casually walks away.

‘You’re right, I don’t.’ She says as she begins to walk the other way. Only to turn around with the excuse, that she might as well have a look at it, since he brought it all the way here.

Lance shows her the tech, which may or may not turn into a macguffin later on, and Pidge is clearly impressed. It’s not quite as advanced as anything they have today, but definitely more sophisticated than its carbon dating (Is that a thing you do with objects?) would imply. She’s excitedly gushing about it, and tells him something to the gist of, ‘You didn’t have to do this.’ to which Lance responds something like, ‘I would do anything to make this happy.’ This suddenly makes everything a bit too real for Pidge, and her demeanor drops as she turns to have a solemn conversation that they had clearly had many times, when Chip comes around leading the group of cadets, who for some reason all have some kind sweet snack in their hands, and telling them general academic tour stuff in a cheery voice, only to drop everything and hug-tackle Lance once he sees him, all star-eyed and delighted to see his other favorite person. One of the cadets, does not quite know who Lance is asks about it. Chip is personally offended that there is somebody who doesn’t recognize the Lance Serrano (Or whatever your preferred last name for him is, in this pretend movie I intend to give everybody their missing last names.) on sight, and immediately begins launching into all his accomplishments, which of course impresses the cadets. They start bombarding him with questions, until Pidge tells them to stop, and then tells them to ask their questions one at a time. So an impromptu Q & A session commences in which it is confirmed that Lance is not Altean, (A self-indulgence for me, because it frustrates how many people have run with this fact, despite the marks being the only Altean trait he exhibits.) culminating in one of the cadets meekly asking if he would do a flight demonstration for them. At first he tries to decline, but Chip is excited by the idea, and Pidge eggs him on, bringing up the whole Tailor line. Lance takes her aside and asks her what she is doing. She responds that since he disrupted her job, he better make amends by contributing to the tour. He complains that he hasn’t flown so much as a cargo-jet in years, and how does she expect him to fly one of their state-of-the-art, not to mention sinfully expensive fighter-jets, without damaging it. ‘Please, a pro like you, it will be like riding a bike. And if you do crash it, I’ll take responsibility.’

‘Right.’

‘And I’ll go along with whatever other birthday surprises you have in store for me, without complaint.’

‘...’

‘And it would make Chip really, really happy.’

‘That’s playing dirty, you know I can’t say no to my favorite android.’

And so he goes along with it. At first he’s a bit hesitant, worried about so much as scuffing the fancy new jet, but before long he’s enjoying himself, and showboating to all the kids on the ground. Pidge looks up at him with a face similar to the one he was making earlier when he was watching her gush over the piece of tech. 

And we are with Keith again. He goes about trying to learn more about his dreams by asking his fellow Blades if they know someone, or something, that can help you get information from your subconscious. Zethrid says that she thinks she remembers an Alien race that could dreamwalk, and seeing as Keith doesn’t have much to go on, he decides to head out there. Acxa elects to go with him, as she is also familiar with the quadrant of space that this race resides in, and it’s a bit disorienting for the uninitiated. They get there, and convince the race to help Keith out. He is but in pseudo sleep state, and this time the memory is of the time he visited his father’s grave with Krolia. (We’re facing the front of the gravestone this time. And yes, we do finally find out Texas Kogane’s name.) Once again he hears Allura’s humming, except now it is slowed down. He approaches it, and again the visions start coming. But this time he is able to get a good look at all the images flashing in front of his eyes. They don’t mean anything to him, but in the last one, not only does he see a nebula that resembles Allura, but a small silhouette that looks suspiciously like...Voltron? The dreamwalkers have copies of all the images he saw thankfully, because a race like their’s would have found a way to transfer information out of a mind directly into images (Sort of a similar school of thinking like the Altean memory hologram things.) Back at the Blade’s headquarters, he asks if anybody know’s where the nebula is located. Nobody has ever seen something like it, but a few of them, including Zethrid, Ezor, and Axca, seem to recognize a couple of the other images. They realize that the other locations must be a path to the nebula, so Keith recruits those that knew were to find those locations to set out on reconnaissance mission. 

Here I’d like to jump around a bit. We’ll keep switching between Keith and crew’s journey, and Pidge’s Birthday Celebration. In attendance of this dinner are Hunk and Shay--Naturally, as they prepared the food--The Holt family including N-7 and Chip, Shiro and Curtis, and of course Lance. I would like this to be one of the more lighter spots in the movie, where we just see everybody’s dynamic with each other, and just exist, because after this act it’s going to get pretty heavy. One of the things that I would like to happen is that there is a projection in the background highlighting Pidge’s greatest achievements. (Including a clip of Chip first going operational, his first words being, ‘Please, define the word ‘mom’. Nevermind, I have found the definition in my Database. Be very afraid.) The party scene comes to an end, just as Keith’s expedition reach the Nebula. He decides to approach it alone in a cruiser, despite the disapproval of the rest of the crew. He claims that he has a feeling that he needs to do this alone. As he is approaching the Nebula, we occasionally cut back and forth to Pidge and Lance, who are having a conversation as he walks her home. They are discussing the day they had, Pidge thanks him for forcing her to attend her own party, Lance thanks her for encouraging him to fly again. Keith’s cruiser enters the Nebula and in the center is in fact a fully formed Voltron, seemingly deactivated. Lance asks her if she would like to hang out with him more often, alone. This devolves into a conversation (Heavily inspired by a textpost from @sp4c3-0ddity. I’ll try to find the link later.) about why them dating is or isn’t a good idea. Keith gets closer to Voltron, and realizes that it seems protecting something in its arms. The conversation grows more dramatic. Keith finally reaches Voltron, and discovers that there is some kind of a force field containing a floating young woman in the same position as the Nebula. (Wearing a light dress, because this is a family picture.) The force field allows his cruiser to pass through, and his scanners or whatsits indicate that there is a breathable atmosphere within. He opens his cruiser door? I don’t know spacecraft lingo, sue me and reaches out for the woman and brings her inside. He closes the door/hatch/whatever quickly because the moment he takes a hold of the woman the force field begins the dissipate and Voltron appears to be separating. The woman, who at the very least resembles Allura, flutters her eyes open and when her gaze locks on Keith she says ‘You’re here! Thank the Ancients, you’re here. Now we can...’ and she falls unconscious again. Meanwhile, Lance and Pidge have reached the climax of their argument. He doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want start a relationship when it’s clear there is something between them, and she says that it’s because she can’t be who he wants her to be. 

‘I just want you to be you, why else would I be asking you out? And don’t tell me this is because of Allura. Of course I still love her, but she’s gone now, and I am more than ready to move on. She wouldn’t want me to be in mourning for the rest of my life. Quiznak, if Curtis and Shiro could make it work despite their deceased loved ones than you have no excuse.’

‘That’s different, I knew Allura. She was one of my closest friends. I couldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t even be able to look at you without feeling guilty. You literally have her mark on you.’

‘Stop making this about other people, and just tell me how you feel!’ 

‘This is how I feel! Why won’t you listen to me?! Trust me, if we did this I would not be able to focus on us, because I would always have her in mind, and that wouldn’t be fair to any of us.’

Lance sighs. ‘Look, if you’re not interested in me then just tell me. But don’t act like you’re doing me a favor by refusing to date me.’ 

‘My feelings for you don’t matter! I’ve been in love with you since before we even met Allura, that’s why we can’t do this! Because I would be taking advantage of her absence!’ Her eyes widen in Shock, and she covers in mouth in mortification, clearly not wanting to reveal that much. Lance is surprised too, never realizing that her feelings run that deep. 

‘Pidge, you’re not...’ Their communication devices start ringing. Cut to the other former Paladins, who’s devices are also ringing. The pick it up and are shocked by Keith’s message. 

‘I found Allura. She’s returned!’ 

Pidge and Lance look at each other uncertainly, not knowing what this development to them. 

And this is where I stop for now. Ain’t I a stinker? Because as of writing this sentence it has almost been five hours and I need me a break. 

To be continued probably....

[irrevocably-delicious]

Omg reading that long-ass list of voltron moments yoy rebloged gave me a cringe-worthy throwback of the beginings of the fandom. But the most awkward one was the 'dirty laundry' phase, like idk why but everybody spoke of that fic; and even tho i've read a lot of popular ones i've never read that one in particular. Did you read it? why was there so much discourse about it? Some loved it and some hated it with passion, idk it was confusing

OH GOD.

Do I dare…. after all these years do I dare… express…. my Dirty Laundry feelings?

Do I touch this long forgotten cornerstone of the Klance fandom?

The answer of course is YES.

So to answer your first question: YES I ABSOLUTELY READ IT AND ABSOLUTELY WAITED IN EXCITEMENT FOR UPDATES.

The thing about Dirty Laundry is…. it’s really a basic fic. Not bad! Not fantastic. There’s nothing new about it at all. It’s your classic fake dating fic where someone has to bring a date home to their family but UH OH, some of the family is homophobic! It has all the plot beats you would expect. It’s fine. It’s fun! It’s nice. Like most multi-chaptered fics, I think it goes for too long and could cut out some unnecessary stuff, but it’s perfectly nice.

HOWEVER, the reason it got so HUGE was just… well timing really. 

THE RISE

We were a brand new fandom. A brand new ship. We needed content, but these characters were still so new to us. We had no idea where the show was going or even much of how the characters were characterised (go back to season 1. Keith does and says fuck all). So when people were looking for some content to enjoy: lo and behold a fake dating fic! Oh thank god that’s pretty safe! We know what to expect from that, right? Everyone loves fake dating fics!

The author writes well enough! It updates pretty regularly! It was really just a perfect storm of “This will do.”

So people read it. And because there was very little to recommend, people suggested it to others. People talked about it, blogged about it, held it up as the BE ALL END ALL klance fic, which of course drew others in. There were memes, fan art like crazy! People would just post on here “IT UPDATED!” and you knew what they were talking about. Some of the first BIG FANDOM blogs also talked about it a lot, so in turn all of their followers wanted to know what this THING was! I’ll be really up front about this, I followed klanced REALLY EARLY and she talked about it a decent amount. I ended up reading it because I just wanted to know what this crazy 16 year old was yelling about all the time.

 However after everyone was raving about it, new readers inevitably picked it up and ended up being a bit disappointed. Then some of the later chapters were posted.

THE FALL

As I said, Dirty Laundry is very basic. I don’t mean that in a degrading way, I just mean that in an “It is what it is” way. It’s a fake dating fic. You know the plot now. The author’s writing style is fine. Nothing fancy. Good grammar. Direct and to the point. Perfectly apt to tell the story. So with so many people raving about it, I think there was a surge of negativity from people going “It’s not even that good. Why does this have the highest rating?” and that’s not really fair. Like could you say it’s overrated? Yeah. But it never claimed to be anything grander than what it is. The fandom put these expectations on the fic, it’s not the writer’s fault. She’s just a kid writing a fake dating fic. She’s not trying to write Schindler’s list or anything.

Though what probably started the wave of discourse was the introduction of an Autistic character and some of the stereotypical portrayals of Lance’s family.

I’m gonna start with the character with ASD because that’s the thing I can actually talk about with some knowledge and experience. Bear with me… I haven’t touched this fic in a VERY long time, but I vividly recall the OUTRAGE when this character was introduced. People called her an offensive stereotype and incorrect portrayal. A token character tossed in without any care for the sake of extra kudos. I heard all this BEFORE I read the chapter, so I expected the worst… when I went to read it… it was really not any of those things. It wasn’t great! Hardly nuanced or anything, but the character seemed very textbook. Like the author had opened a journal on “What is Autism?” and was reciting it through this character. ASD is really difficult I think to write for because it actually presents itself in different ways. So when there were people claiming “I’m autistic and I don’t do that!” that’s not really fair, because your experience is not the same as others. It felt like people had a problem with how the character spoke? And I think that’s actually more from a young author not knowing how to write kid dialogue than not knowing how to write an autistic character. Writing kids is… fucking hard.

It was especially saddening to hear that the author introduced this character in honour of a very good friend of hers, who’s sibling(?) has ASD and she wanted to represent them. This representation was not the most poetic, but it came from good intentions and I felt was not hurtful. I don’t have ASD, so I don’t want to speak for others, and I realise this was not the case for everyone. 

But the other big issue was the portrayal of Lance’s Mexican family. People felt that his Mexican family being homophobic was a stereotype. There’s a reference to throwing a chancla, Lance knows how to salsa, he and his siblings blast Gasolina in the car. A lot of people felt that these were stereotypes bordering on racist, though you also had hispanic people coming forward and saying “This feels like my family”. It was a very aggressive conversation, with people labelling the author as racist and problematic. Do I think the author was problematic? Yeah, but I don’t think that makes her a terrible person. I think that just means she was ignorant and still learning about these things. Probably a few comments and a bit of guidance would have been all that was necessary in educating her about these issues. 

But that’s not how things went. 

FINAL RESULT AND WORDS

I want to make it clear, that out of all the horrible, bat-shit crazy things this fandom has done, NOTHING has disgusted me more than how Gibslythe (the author) was treated. I have never witnessed this fandom so voraciously and aggressively turn on a single individual. The whiplash from PRAISE to ABHORENT CONDEMNATION of Dirty Laundry was reeling. The introduction of the autistic character and singing Gasolina were very close (same chapter?) And that was the breaking point for a lot of people. The author was threatened, yelled at, called terrible names, and this thing that she had created, which had been so beloved and praised, was now being spat on by the very people who had lifted it up just days prior. I can’t imagine what she went through. I don’t want to. 

While I agree worst things have happened (oh god the Josh Keaton nonsense guys, that was a low point), this has always really stuck out to me as the most disgusting, because Gibslythe was just some kid who started writing a klance fic. She was just some kid. And I’ve never quite gotten over what she must have felt when the tides suddenly shifted. Some 17 year old should not be held to such high standards. Dirty Laundry should not be held to such high expectations. 

So the fic actually went on a hiatus. And the author was pretty candid with her feelings and how she wanted to either delete the whole thing, or never update again. But… amazingly…she finished it. To my absolute shock. And I believe it’s still largely unedited, because as previously stated, people did come out and say “No, I’m hispanic and I fucking love Gasolina and sing it with my family all the time.”. And I feel like it takes some serious balls to finish something that has probably become so tainted for you. 

Do I Recommend It?

Dirty Laundry’s history is vastly more interesting than the fic itself. It’s completion is almost a miracle and everyone has an opinion on it. So what do I think?? 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It’s alright. 

[four-loose-screws]

FE5 Umemura Novel Translation - Chapter 10 Part 3

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

Pre-3DS FE Translations - FE Awakening Translations - FE Fates Translations - Original FE Support Conversations - Ko-fi

“Right! Go around his right!!” Leif yelled.

Several days after they had parted with Seliph’s army, he and his army had encountered the imperial army, and they were now being attacked on multiple fronts by knights and dark mages from the Shwarze Rozen.

They were currently close to Fort Danzhi.

*

A dark mage unleashed an attack.

Brighton tried to cut around a knight’s right side, but was hit by the dark magic and fell off his horse.

“Brighton!” Machyua rushed over to him.

The dark mage aimed his next attack at her.

“Ah! Look out!!” Brighton stood up and pushed her out of the way, causing him to take the brunt of the attack. He groaned and fell to the ground once more.

The knight raised his axe and swung it at Brighton, intending to finish him off.

“I won’t let you hurt him!” Machyua stepped forward. She stabbed the knight’s throat with her sword.

Blood spurted from the gap in the knight’s helmet, and he fell.

“Are you okay, Brighton!?”

“Yeah. I won’t die until Manster has been freed.” Though his face was pale, he laughed. However, that only caused him to cough. Blood trickled from his mouth.

“Brighton!” She screamed as loud as she could.

More knights started to approach them.

Diarmuid rushed in and cut the knights down in an instant. “This is no time to panic! If you don’t want him to die, then get him to a healer immediately!” Diarmuid yelled at her.

Machyua swallowed her tears and nodded. “I’m sorry.” She picked up Brighton and rushed to the back of the unit.

*

Dark mages closed in on the rear lines.

Tina screeched.

“No!” Leif clicked his tongue as he pulled his sword out of a dark mage.

Selfina galloped towards the dark mages and shot arrows at them in rapid succession.

The dark mages started to chant, but saw the arrows flying towards them and panicked.

Asbel, Miranda, and Olwen took advantage of the opening and attacked.

Fire, wind, and thunder all assaulted the dark mages at once.

However, several of them seemed to have high magical resistance and training, as, while they were injured, they were still standing.

They began chanting once again.

Selfina shot several more arrows, which hit the dark mages in-between their eyebrows. One by one, they fell to the ground.

However, several of the dark mages reacted faster than Selfina could shoot at them.

The dark mage furthest in the back of the group gathered dark energy in his hands, and started to release it, but Leif was one step ahead of him and stabbed his chest.

The darkness dissipated.

The dark mage groaned and fell.

Leif removed his sword from him, then checked his surroundings.

He saw a cavalier unit coming around at them from the left.

“Finn! Carrion! Take some of others with you, and attack that cavalier unit. The rest will come with me, push onward, and seize the castle.”

“Yes, sir!” Finn and Carrion both said and nodded at the same time, then rushed off with some of the other cavaliers towards the oncoming enemy cavalier unit.

Leif and his group advanced straight towards Fort Danzhi.

“Wh-What’s that!?” Karin pointed at the southern mountain range and screamed.

Everyone stopped and looked, in unison, at where she was pointing.

“That’s a dragon rider unit.” Leif muttered in surprise.

Flying at them from above the mountain range was a unit of about ten dragons.

“I see.” August muttered while glaring at the dragon riders with a furrowed brow. “Most likely, now that the empire’s power over Northern Thracia has been weakened, The Kingdom of Thracia is plotting to take advantage of the situation.”

“Whatever they’re here for, we’ve gotta take them out!” Lifis said jokingly.

August frowned and nodded.

“Then I’ll take care of them! Leave it to me!” Asbel raised his hand.

“Are you planning on doing what you did last time?” Karin asked with a frown.

“Yes. Yes I am.” He nodded and smiled brightly.

“No way! I’m never going to let you on Hermes ever again!” She shook her head forcefully.

“C’mon! Why would you say something like that when there’s enemies coming right for us!? Oh, whatever. Let me ride with you, Dean! Please!”

“You’re planning to knock the dragons out of the sky with wind magic? Sounds good. Get on!” Dean motioned for Asbel to get on his dragon with his chin, then pulled on the reigns without waiting for the mage.

His dragon flapped its wings.

Asbel panicked and scrambled on the dragon’s back.

The moment Asbel straddled his legs over the dragon’s back, they flew up high into the sky.

*

Dean stared straight at the dragon rider unit in front of him and stopped his dragon.

“There’s going to be some backlash the moment I shoot my attack, so please keep us balanced.”

“Understood.” Dean answered, gripping the reigns and not once averting his gaze.

The dragon rider unit flew closer.

Asbel started to chant, shooting out a whirlwind.

The dragon turned wildly with Asbel’s body.

“Gah!” Dean twisted both the reigns and his body, keeping his dragon steady.

Asbel continued chanting, not stopping for even a second.

The dragon shook left and right.

Dean kept expert control of the reigns, using all his might to keep steady. However, that kept him from noticing that one of the dragons had weaved through the eye of the whirlwind and was coming at them. For a moment, his face was covered up by a shadow. “What was that!?” He looked up and saw a dragon rider coming right at them.

The dragon rider readied his javelin, targeting Asbel.

“Dammit!” Dean jerked the reigns and turned his dragon.

The dragon rider threw his javelin.

Dean’s dragon changed direction.

“Aaaah!” Asbel screeched.

Dean turned around. He didn’t see Asbel behind him.

Instead, Asbel was falling headfirst, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

“Asbel!” Dean ground his teeth and ordered his dragon to drop.

“Leave him to us!” Karin and Eda yelled at the same time.

He saw them flying up towards him and Asbel, and decided to do just that.

The moment he looked at the dragon rider, he thrust his lance.

The enemy dragon fell for a moment, then drew an arch in the air before rising behind Dean’s back.

Dean glared at the enemy, who was now resting above him and his dragon.

“Die, traitor!” The enemy smirked, readied his lance, and turned towards Dean.

Dean took the attack with his own lance. “Call me whatever you want! Just like you fight for your country, I fight for my own beliefs!” He twisted his wrist and thrust his lance.

The enemy turned his head to the side and dodged the lance. It grazed his cheek. His dragon dropped once more.

Dean followed after him, then stopped his dragon directly above him. From that angle, Dean could see every pull of the enemy’s reigns, and read his movements.

“You can’t escape now!” Dean said.

The enemy chucked. “You fool! You can’t reach me with your lance from there! This is my victory!” He readied his lance and looked up at Dean. Suddenly, his face was overcome by bewilderment. “I-Impossible… Are you upside-down!?”

The enemy’s eyes did not deceive him. Dean had flipped his dragon upside-down, and was hanging on only with his feet in the stirrups and with his left hand on the reigns.

“Sorry, but you’re the one who’s gonna die here!” Dean’s lance pierced the enemy’s throat. He used the force from pulling his lance out to upright his dragon.

Paralyzed with shock, the dragon rider fell.

They had managed to take out the entire dragon rider unit.

Dean let out a small sigh and returned to Leif and the others.

*

Dean’s quick thinking had kept Asbel from taking a direct hit. He had only been hit in the side. However, he had lost a lot of blood.

Tina put her all into casting a healing spell. The wound slowly got smaller.

Behind her, Linoan was healing Brighton.

“Keep it up. We’re going to the fort.” Leif ordered while watching over Asbel.

He had decided that they would take the fort, and that resting there was a necessity. The injured seemed to be suffering greatly, and the healers looked exhausted. At this rate, it was highly likely that someone would pass out.

He started running towards the fort.

―

Fergus took down a knight, then started running.

Leif ran after him. The fort was now before their eyes.

The only enemy left was the mage guarding the fort.

He unleashed a gust of wind.

Fergus stopped and braced himself to take the brunt of the attack. It hit him and sliced open his skin. “Gah!” He was suddenly overcome with shock.

Leif was surprised as well, and opened his eyes wide.

Fergus’ body had begun to freeze from his feet up.

“Fergus!” Leif screamed.

Fergus ground his teeth together and looked back.

“Forget about me! This’ll melt after a while! It’s more important for you to take this guy out and seize the castle!” He smiled through the pain of the ice creeping up his body.

Leif nodded and dashed off.

The mage panicked when Leif ran past him. He ceased his attack.

Leif stepped forward and swung his sword upwards faster than the mage could turn around.

The mage’s death cry echoed through the air, and signaled that Leif had seized Fort Danzhi.

―

Leif and the others rested inside of the fort and healed the injured.

It was especially difficult to heal Brighton, who’d been poisoned from the dark magic; Asbel, who’d lost a lot of blood; and Fergus, whose heart rate had slowed due to the drop in his body temperature from the ice magic. The healers were extremely exhausted now. Tina even fainted in the middle of a spell.

It took four days for everyone to recover and leave the fort.

[smoaking-greenarrow]

The Best Deceptions Chapter Five teaser!

Read from the beginning on AO3.

A/N: I’m sorry this teaser is shorter than usual, it was hard to find a piece that didn’t give away too many big plot points. Hopefully that means it’ll be a good one;)

Chapter Five: Truce

As she reached the doorway, Lyla bumped into Oliver, letting out a huff of surprise. Oliver opened his mouth, an apology interrupted as he glanced over her head. His eyes narrowed, and Lyla followed his gaze. Roy had his feet up on Thea’s bed, and they were laughing about something that Lyla had obviously tuned out. Oliver’s sister didn’t notice him, her tunnel vision focused on Roy.

But Oliver took up most of the doorway, and Roy noticed him after a moment, the smile falling from his face as he sat up, moving his legs off the bed and straightening up. Lyla had to bite back a laugh, the whole interaction reminding her of when she was in high school and would try to introduce her boyfriends to her father. None of her relationships lasted much longer after they met Mr. Michaels. Especially if he mentioned his time as a sniper in the military during the first conversation. Lyla could still hear his voice, boasting his ability to hit a targets from an impressive distance.

The irony was that Roy already knew exactly the things that Oliver was capable of.

Strangely, the look on Oliver’s face was just like her father’s, but Lyla was confident that Roy Harper didn’t spook as easily as the boys she used to date. In the silence that followed, Oliver and Roy stared each other down while Lyla and Thea glanced between them, both wondering which one would speak first.

Apparently they’d never find out, though. Awkward pauses in conversation made Felicity uneasy, and she made her presence known as she peeked her head in from behind Oliver’s arm, her expression curious as she broke the silence. “Hi!” she offered, looking around the room and trying to squeeze through the door around Oliver.

Once he realized what she was trying to do, Oliver moved, letting her slip by him as she came into the room. With one more dramatic glare at Roy, Oliver cleared his throat and turned his attention to Lyla. Felicity hovered by his side, and Thea relaxed, shoving Roy’s shoulder as they resumed their meal.

It wasn’t unusual to see Oliver with dark circles under his eyes. The man was familiar with sleepless nights. In fact, he was probably more comfortable with only a few hours of sleep during the night. But Felicity was the opposite. The woman looked dead on her feet, and despite their bad blood, it made Lyla start to worry. She’d been through a lot in the last few days, and Lyla couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem as bubbly or alert as she had before.

“You okay?” Lyla mumbled.

It took a moment for Felicity to realize the question was directed at her, and when she did, she nodded profusely, “yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Lyla leveled her look to Oliver, not wanting either of them to think she cared about Felicity Smoak, but... “get some sleep.”

Oliver nodded, looking down at Felicity with guilt washing over his face. Lyla knew that he’d been consumed with the current problem. Prometheus and The Throwing Star Killer were one in the same, and it was clear that he was toying with Oliver. He’d hurt Felicity and Thea, killed Captain Lance and Curtis Holt, and they all knew that it was far from over. Prometheus was playing a game, he was challenging Oliver... and if there was a scoreboard, Oliver was losing. “We’re going home after this,” he said gently, more to Felicity than the rest of the room. Then he turned back to Lyla “I just wanted to ask you to do something.”

Lyla crossed her arms, “okay, what?”

“I need you to check in with the A.R.G.U.S agent on Lian Yu.” Lyla raised an eyebrow as Felicity sighed.

“Why?”

“There’s a long list of people I’ve encountered who would want to hurt me. But this is more than that. It’s not just an attack. This whole thing, the killings and the clues, everything’s been set up exactly how Prometheus wants it. And there’s only one person I can think of who is capable of something like this. One person who hates me enough to go through all of this.”

“Slade.” Lyla’s eyebrows furrowed as she nodded. “But what does Slade have to do with Tommy? Even if he did get free, why would ‘Tommy Merlyn’ be the message Slade chose to send you?”

Oliver pressed his fingers against his forehead, closing his eyes, “I don’t know, Lyla. We can cross that bridge if we get to it. Could you please check in and make sure that he’s still locked up?” Lyla pursed her lips and nodded. Behind them, Roy was pressing a cold water bottle against Thea’s neck and chuckling when she flinched and squirmed away from it. Oliver cleared his throat again, getting their attention. “Hey Roy, think you can hit the streets tonight?”

“I thought you wanted me to stay down here and keep an eye out for Thea and Lyla.”

“He does,” Felicity interrupted as Oliver opened his mouth to argue. She slid her hand over Oliver’s arm, nodding at Roy. “Someone being down here to make sure Thea’s safe while she heals is the most important thing.” She finished, staring up at Oliver pointedly.

Oliver sighed, “okay. Well, you can take the night off. Felicity and I will stay with Thea, you all go home and get some rest.”

Felicity pouted, and Lyla wasn’t sure why she felt the need to interject. But Felicity’s eyes glazed over, as if the idea of another sleepless night in the bunker was the last crack in her armor, and she finally let her exhaustion show. “We’ve got things handled down here, Oliver.” Lyla nodded towards Felicity, who was literally swaying in her high heels with fatigue. Oliver noticed too, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady. “You go take Felicity to bed.”

Roy and Felicity each snorted, and Thea groaned. For the first time in years, Lyla felt her face reddening with embarrassment. “Not to bed,” she tried, shaking her head, “not...like that, just...” Lyla rolled her eyes, annoyed that Felicity’s babbling was rubbing off on her. “Make sure she gets some sleep. She looks like she could pass out right here,” Lyla grumbled as Felicity sighed in agreement, letting Oliver hold most of her weight. 

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Secret Santa, part 3 (of 4)

Len really isn't the "Secret Santa" type. Hell, he's not really the Christmas type. But when Sara challenges him...well. Maybe this could be fun, after all...

I'm sorry this was delayed. But in return, you get a chapter that's longer than the two preceding it combined! Things took a bit of a turn toward actual plot. Many thanks to @larielromeniel for helping catch all my late-night writing typos and getting some things straightened out.

Can also be read here at FF.net or here at AO3. (Recommended, ‘cause this is LONG.)

Happy New Year, everyone! 

The '20s in Chicago are about as fun as Len thought they'd be. He's quite fond of the dapper blue suit Gideon helps him create in the fabrication room, actually, and even Mick—who isn't fond of "playin' dress-up," as he calls it—seems to like his own smoke-gray one.

Of course, Len's so distracted by the sight of Sara spinning around in her very, very short, sparkling flapper's dress that Hunter gives them one of his patented pity-the-poor-captain looks and pointedly tells Kendra and Mick to make sure someone's paying attention to the mission. The very fact that he includes Mick in that order shows just how much things have changed over the past year, both with Mick and with Hunter's view of him. Of all of them, really.

Kendra, in her own sparkly flapper dress that's not quite so short, laughs, and Mick, popping his fedora onto his head, snorts, but they do listen. And Leonard and Sara aren't quite so distracted that they'd fudge a serious mission because of it. The four of them, with the others ready as backup at the ship (much to Raymond's disappointment), handily filch the futuristic weapons a very small-time mobster had obtained from time pirates, with only a few small stops and side trips to obtain some authentic Prohibition-era moonshine—and perhaps a few other small items.

And one slight delay when Sara'd decided to distract guards in a speakeasy by dancing. Len's pretty sure that's a vision that's going to haunt his dreams for the foreseeable future. (Especially since she'd followed it up by delivering quite the ass kicking onto the same guards.)

She's not, however, quite so fond of the reward for said ass kicking.

"This is even worse than that swill they were serving back in Salvation," Sara comments, wrinkling her nose after just one sip. She's sitting in the galley with Len, Mick and Kendra after their return, trying out their stolen 'shine as they rehash the mission. Kendra, who'd declined to even take one drink, shakes her head, pushing over the box of chocolates she'd found left in her room by her Secret Santa. She's guarded them zealously enough that Len's actually somewhat touched by her willingness to share them now.

And he's a sucker for the peppermint ones.

"It's not so bad." Mick takes another drink, but even he's not putting the booze away as quickly as he has in the past. "Just…um…distinctive. Is that what they call it?"

"Yes. It is," Len informs him, drily, setting down his glass. "Both, actually. But I don't think 'distinctive' is necessarily a good thing."

"More for me."

"And welcome to it," Sara tells him, pushing the glass away and taking a chocolate. "I think we've established I can drink you under the table, big guy. I've got nothing to prove. Especially not with that stuff. I have better taste."

Mick's eyes brighten at that line, though, and he quickly glances at Leonard, who glares at him as he tries to think of a good way to head off what's coming. It's Kendra, to his surprise, who comes to his rescue.

"Taste is relative," the former hawk goddess says smoothly. "Did you know the ancient Egyptians were the first ones to perfect the brewing of beer? It didn't taste much like today's, though. I wonder what you'd make of it."

Mick is successfully distracted, although something in the smile he turns on the dark-haired woman says that he's allowing himself to be. "Yeah? And you remember that?"

"Oddly enough…"

Leonard snorts, then glances at Sara, who shakes her head in amusement. Then, against his better judgment, he leans a little closer.

"So," he drawls, "figure out who gave you that excellent gift?"

Sara'd found a whetstone waiting for her on her desk when they'd returned from Chicago, one of a unique make even she'd never seen before. But it worked like a dream, and she was so pleased with it that Leonard rather wished he'd had the idea first.

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward just a little too. "Like I'd tell you if I did." A look from under lowered lashes. "Or are you saying that it was you?"

Yes, he wishes he'd had the idea first. "I'm not giving anything away, birdie."

"You give away plenty, Len."

Now, what does she mean by that? "Oh?" he asks, just a little cautiously. "Do tell…"

But Mick interrupts them with a snort, and they both glance up to see both him and Kendra watching them with particularly amused, if world-weary, expressions. But Mick doesn't comment this time, just shakes his head and pushes his chair back, getting to his feet.

"Told the nerd squad I'd meet 'em to hash over some more rescue ideas," he mutters. "Think I'll take a few glasses of the 'shine, since no one here likes it. Haircut gets real creative with the science-y stuff when you get some liquor into him, and maybe it'll help."

Kendra rises too, as he does. "How are you doing?" she asks curiously. "With the plans. Everyone was so optimistic at first, but lately…"

"But lately, not so much." Mick shakes his head, pouring a few glasses before turning for the door and then glancing back.

"Time Bastards, they were smarter than they looked. Even with their damned gadget…" He nods to Snart, who nods back … damn right he'll take credit for destroying the Oculus. "…they made it real hard to undo their bullshit. Fuckers."

Well, Leonard can't argue with that. He opens his mouth to ask another question, but Mick anticipates it.

"Ain't saying any more," the big man says with a grunt as he turns back for the door. "I hate remembering it, what they did…well. Only reason I'm doing it is 'cause of Rip's kid. S'got a dad who loves him. He should…"

Len gets Mick's issues with that as well as anyone ever will. "Yeah," he cuts in. "Good luck."

Mick leaves without another backward glance. Kendra does glance at him, but she leaves, too.

Leonard reaches over and reclaims his glass of moonshine, taking another sip even as he winces at the taste. He can feel Sara's eyes on him, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she reaches over and takes his glass, stealing a sip herself.

Len glances over after a moment, meets her eyes.

Understanding.

Nothing more. But also, nothing less.

He watches her another minute. Then, "So. Do you want to finish the movie?"

Sara's startled into a laugh. They'd started watching "The Untouchables" right before the ship's foray to Chicago, after she'd told Len while sparring that she'd never seen it. ("That was the year I was born, old man!") So, he, of course, had insisted she had to. Before visiting actual Prohibition-era Chicago, of course.

Merely a bonus if it meant a few more hours in her company.

They'd only made it halfway through before they'd both started nodding off, though, and Len didn't have quite the nerve to let her fall asleep with her head on his shoulder (or to let himself drift off with his chin against her hair). So, using the excuse that she'd have a hell of a crick in her neck if she stayed like that (and resisting the urge to suggest they both get more comfortable), he'd woken her gently and watched as she left with an apology and a sleepy mumble.

And spent the next hour staring at the ceiling and regretting the choice.

"Well, now that we've seen the real thing, it might not be as much fun…but yes," Sara said, decisively, bringing him back to the here and now as she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. "I have some things to do right now. Later. Tomorrow? I'm all screwed up with that stop…what's ship's time, Gideon?"

"8:19 p.m., Ms. Lance," the AU said promptly. "It is not surprising your internal clock is, as you say, 'all screwed up.' You left Chicago at 11 p.m. local time, after spending approximately six hours there, and that was two-and-a-half hours ago in the time stream. Your body cannot decide if it's 1:30 a.m. or mid-evening." Gideon's tone takes on a slightly lecturing note. "I keep telling Captain Hunter that none of you have had the training in such readjustments that he has, but…"

"…but we are pretty used to weird hours. Some of us, anyway. The assassins and thieves." Sara winks at Leonard. "It evens out."

"But…"

"It's OK, Gideon. See you later, Len."

Leonard watches her go, then picks up the bottle of 'shine, swirling the liquid around and watching it. The raw burn of it hadn't been to his taste, but he can see the lure of the quick oblivion it promises, especially in the mean streets of the city they'd just left.

Not for him, though. He'd blown up the Time Masters in part because he hated the idea of someone else pulling his strings. He'll be damned if he lets the booze do it.

"Mr. Snart?"

Gideon's voice is tentative. Len smiles to himself, sitting the bottle down, pretty sure of what the AI has to say.

"Gideon, after all this time," he drawls, tipping his chair backward, "don't you think you can call me 'Leonard?' "

A pause.

"Mr. Snart," the AI repeats with emphasis, "such familiarity would be against my programming."

"And you always have to go with your programming."

"It is in my nature."

Not quite a confirmation. "Well, it's in my nature to hate the idea of programming. Which I'm pretty sure you know." Leonard brings the front two legs of the chair back to the floor. "What's up?"

Another pause.

"Captain Hunter, he was quite pleased by the first gift," Gideon says finally. "Have you thoughts on a second?"

Through her sensors, he's pretty sure Gideon can see him, but he conceals his smile anyway. "Not as of yet," he points out. "Any ideas yourself?"

The AI is quiet for a few moments. "Not…particularly," she says then, tone uncharacteristically hesitant. "It is true that Captain Hunter only truly wants one thing right now. Two things. And anything else I can think of is likely to rely too much, perhaps, on nostalgia. Not that that is a bad thing, but…"

"But a random crook is probably not the best to invoke it."

But Gideon has a comeback to that immediately. "On the contrary, Mr. Snart. You and Captain Hunter are more alike than either one of you is ever likely to care to admit." A little asperity, there? Even amusement? "Still, it would take something specific, and I have no particular thoughts on that. Not as of yet."

"Well," he retorts, just a bit unsettled by her words. "Keep thinking."

"As long as you do the same, Mr. Snart."

He and Hunter are not alike.

He's a far better planner, for one, Leonard thinks grumpily as he stalks the halls of the Waverider a bit later, unwilling to admit that his sleeping patterns are off, after all, thanks to time travel. He's a better leader. Better looking.

Petty? Oh, a tad. But no one ever said Leonard Snart couldn't be petty. He's pretty good at that, too.

Slowing to a stop as he nears Hunter's study, he sighs, acknowledging that, at least. And also that Gideon had a point. About a couple of things.

As far as he knows, Mick's still with the others. Well, he's feeling just petty enough to barge in. Maybe another look at the study will give him some ideas…

And that's when the door slides open, the captain himself rushing out and stumbling to a stop before hitting the team thief.

For a moment, the two men just stare at each other. Len, recovering quickly and pasting on his usual smirk, notes the slightly reddened eyes, the stress and the grief in the Brit's features before the man recovers enough to slap his own typically harried expression on.

"Mr. Snart," Hunter clips out before sidestepping him. "Excuse me." Then he raises his voice and his eyes. "Gideon, set a course for the Refuge. I…have a few inquiries to make there. And I promised Mother that I'd look in; I've been sadly remiss in that."

"Now?" Leonard inquires pointedly, turning to look at him. "Kinda late. Pretty sure a good portion of your team is asleep or exhausted."

Hunter's eyes narrow, but Gideon cuts in smoothly at that point, as Mick and Raymond follow Hunter out of the study. "Captain, I hate to say this, but Mr. Snart is correct." She continues as Len mutters, "Gee, thanks, Gideon." "I can set the course, but I would recommend actually making the jump in the morning, ship's time. That will also give you time to…consider what you hope to achieve."

Hunter runs a hand over his face, then shakes his head. "Yes…yes, of course, Gideon." He fixes Len and the others with a look. "So. Rest is in order, people. We jump in the morning."

With that, he strides off toward the captain's quarter. Leonard shakes his head as Mick joins him.

"Not going well, I take it?"

"Nah…"

"He says we…well, he…created a 'time knot.' " Raymond's voice is concerned, and Len decides to leave off antagonizing the man for the time being…to better obtain information, of course. "When he recruited us, when you…" He motions vaguely at Len, who raises his eyebrows. "…um, blew up the Time Masters, when we killed Savage. We made it so there's no way to save his wife and son, because if they don't die, he doesn't recruit us and none of that happens and…"

"Breathe, Raymond." Len turns to look at Mick. "And this is news?

The bigger man shrugs. "Well, there's usually wriggle room. The Time Masters, they operate…operated…in that wriggle room, those little spaces between events. You know, like…" He ponders a moment. "…well, uh…oh, hell. The thing with the time pirates. The Time Masters, they grabbed me in the time after you left, before you could even possibly come back." He waves a hand as Leonard starts to respond. "Don't say it again, I was an ass, you didn't have a choice, yadda yadda. Water under the bridge. Anyway, we figured we'd find something here. But…really seems to be tied up tight. We've been going over it and going over it." He shrugs as Raymond nods. "Can't find nothing."

"So, why the Refuge?"

"Honestly, Snart, I ain't got the foggiest idea."

The place looks the same as it had the last time they were there, before the Vanishing Point and the Oculus and Savage. Len feels a prickle run up his spine as he follows Hunter and the others down the path toward the stately home, slowing so that he can study the place.

Nothing unusual. He knows they're at…what was Hunter's phrase? A secret location in time and space…but there's nothing to clue anyone into that fact. Not unless he can count that unnerving prickle…not Alexa, no, not quite…that just won't go away.

He's so engrossed in thought that it takes him a moment to notice that Sara's dropped back to walk next to him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she murmurs, watching him.

"Nah. Gotta be at least a quarter," he shoots back, then sighs, hanging back a little more while she slows with him. "Wishing that I knew more about this place," he says in a low tone. "Do you... feel that?"

Sara lifts an eyebrow at him, but apparently decides against innuendo. "No? Feel what? It seems the same."

"There's like…this electricity in the air." Ill at ease, he pauses instead of following the others up the steps. "Do you think we're still…"

"Our younger selves? No. Rip said he was bringing us to a point after that. You were too busy trading barbs with Stein to hear him." She taps him on the shoulder and he finds himself leaning into the contact, then stops. Sara doesn't comment, but she does turn around and walk backward a few moments, studying him thoughtfully.

He studies her in return, noticing something. "That new?"

"The jersey?" The corner of her mouth rises and she nods, turning to let her jacket slip off her shoulders just enough to show the "Lance" on the back. "Uh huh. Starling City Rockets. My 'Santa' worked fast. And paid attention. I used to go to games with my dad. It's even the old name."

"Nice." He means it.

"Very." Sara shrugs the jacket back on and slows even more, although the others are in the house at this point. "Stein's worked fast too. Got him this gorgeous crystal menorah that's made to be extra-stable and spill-proof. A plus for the Waverider."

"Heh. No one tell Mick. He's still annoyed Gideon won't let him have candles."

Sara starts to retort, but at that moment, they both feel eyes on them. They stop in their tracks, Sara's hand going reflexively to her sleeve and Len's to a cold gun that isn't there, and look up.

A tall woman stands on the Refuge's porch, watching them. No, watching him. She looks no older than before, and no younger, very much the same. Her expression is very, very serious and her eyes are…cold? No, judging. Maybe both?

Len feels the prickle down his spine intensify, and shuffles uneasily where he stands. For the first time, he remembers…Mary Xavier was all about protecting her children.

Who were to be become Time Masters.

And he…

But after a moment, a moment that probably felt longer to him than it actually was, she shakes her head. Her eyes flick to Sara, then back to him, an actual smile touches her lips…and she turns and goes back inside the house. Len lets out a breath and feels the tension subside, a little.

But not completely.

"That was a little creepy," Sara says under her breath. She relaxes her stance, and Leonard's warmed, a little, by the realization that she'd been ready to back him up.

"Yeah." He hesitates. "I can't say I really blame her, if you think…"

But Sara's been following his line of thought, apparently. She glares at him before he can get the words out. "No. We didn't have much of a choice. Not if we wanted to break their control, get back our free will and save the world. And you…you nearly died…"

There's something in her voice, there, and he glances over, startled, seeing her mouth set in a firm line and her eyes directed at where Xavier had vanished. That's the most she's said about his near-miss with death since they'd dragged him out of the time stream, and even then, she'd just threatened to kill him if he ever did anything that stupid again.

"Sara…"

"A-hem."

They both look up to see Hunter, standing on the porch with his arms folded and a stern look on his face. He apparently isn't so lost in distraction and grief that he's failed to notice that two of his wayward team members were unaccounted for on the property, and given which two, it's not so surprising he'd come looking.

And the moment's gone.

Inside, the team's split up. Kendra's already sitting in a rocking chair, contentedly rocking one of the littlest residents of the Refuge, and after a moment, Sara goes to join her. Mick and Jax have headed for the kitchens, unsurprisingly, and Raymond and Stein for one of the several libraries—also unsurprisingly.

Len drifts after that last pair, undecided. The ladies' conversation runs too much of a risk of drifting toward his adorable infant self, and that's just a touch unnerving. (He thinks they do it on purpose.) He's not hungry. And the lure of books is strong…

The sound of a footfall, though, makes him turn to the left. He skulks down a corridor, catching a flicker of Hunter's coat as the man heads up a staircase that's nearly concealed around a corner. There's a murmur of voices and as far as Leonard knows, there's only one other adult at the Refuge…

After a moment, he follows them, silent as a lifelong thief can be.

The staircase is narrow and curving; the passageway it ends in, just as close. He trails the voices to a door that's just a crack ajar, then, after a moment and some reflection, moves quickly to the other side so he can peer in the even smaller crack there.

Hunter is pacing; he can see the motion. It's a familiar sight, generally paired with a lecture that he (and Sara, and Mick) usually tunes out…

"…giving up…"

Frowning, Len concentrates on the words.

"You and I both know, Michael, that what the Time Masters call a 'time knot' usually meant 'we don't want to change it, so we'll find a 'reason' why we can't." Mary Xavier's tone is both sympathetic and slightly lecturing. "You're not one to give up. Not usually. And what did I say about wallowing?"

"Is it truly wallowing if…" Hunter's tone drops enough that Leonard can't hear him, but after a moment, his voice rises again. "…if there is truly no hope, it is one thing, but every instinct I have says there is, despite how it seems. Am I fooling myself?

The woman sighs. "Michael," she says fondly, "you came here today to have me tell you what you already know yourself. That if hope remains, you must follow it. Anything else would be a betrayal of who you are."

Len can hear Hunter's sigh. "Well," the other man says after a moment, a thread of humor back in his tone, "I came to check in, too. I said I would."

"You have said many things over the years." Her tone is stern, but then she laughs a little. "Thank you. We…continue. And we wait."

For? Leonard frowns.

"I don't know if I can do what you want me to do." Hunter's voice is uneasy, and he starts to pace again.

"What you must do. And you already have. At least, you've started."

Their listener wants to hear more along that line, but the captain apparently prefers to avoid it. He's silent for a long moment, moving around the room, and Leonard scans it as best he can through the crack, realizing that they're in another library.

Then he hears a volume being removed from a bookshelf and the sigh Hunter makes as he sees it.

" 'A Wrinkle in Time,'" the captain reads from the cover, then makes a thoughtful noise "I remember reading, and rereading, this copy. Oh, countless times. There's the mended tear in the back corner, where Daniel took it from me that time, and the fold from when Gabrielle borrowed it. I couldn't find it as I got older; thought it just got lost, or someone took it with them." He carefully replaces it on the shelf as Len watches. "I never got my own copy. Meant to read it with Jonas, but, well…"

He sighs again. "I'm going to go consult the science and history libraries; I have before, but you never know. I think the others are enjoying being off the ship, so…we'll stay for dinner, with your permission?"

At her assent, Hunter leaves, never looking back into the corridor and the crook watching from the shadows. Leonard stands a moment, digesting what he's heard, then looks at the door.

After a moment, he sighs…and enters.

Mary Xavier, he's pretty sure, has been waiting for him.

The mistress of the Refuge is sitting behind a desk in the room, which has wide windows letting in the morning sunshine and is, indeed, lined with bookshelves. These aren't the mostly big, leather-bound and serious-looking tones of the other libraries he's seen here, but an eclectic mix: worn paperbacks, colorful picture books, thick novels. Leonard barely gives them a glance, though, however tempted he may be.

Instead, trying for his typical insouciance, he parks his hip against a low table and folds his arms, waiting. Mary regards him for a long moment, then nods.

"Ah," she says, a satisfied sound. "The beautiful baby boy with the big blue eyes." She pauses. "The baby who grew up to destroy the Time Masters."

The words put his hackles up, even though he'd been expecting them. "Not going to apologize…"

But the older woman holds up a hand, shaking her head. "I do not expect you to, Mr. Snart. Yes, you were the one to pull the trigger, as it were, and you nearly paid for that with your life. I do not think you understand just how close that was." She watches him calmly, something uncanny in her own blue gaze. "But the ultimate instrument of their demise was the device they themselves created to control time, and time…does not like to be controlled."

After a moment, she rises from the desk and Leonard, despite himself, takes a step back. There's something that formidable about her. But Mary doesn't approach him. Instead, she leans on her desk, almost matching his own posture, and continues to watch him.

"Perhaps Michael has told you these words; he always liked them," she says. "Time wants to happen. The hand of Time is on you, Leonard Snart. You did its will and you have nearly drowned in its currents—but you survived. Not many can say that."

The words make the feeling of electricity in the air, which had faded, worse. Leonard, unsettled, responds as he often does to discomfort: by attacking. "You're saying something else pulled my strings. Time itself? You expect me to believe that?"

She ignores the adversarial tone "Hmm. Not…quite. What you did, you did because you are you. You acted according to your nature, as Michael does his…as everyone does, really."

"That seems to be a theme, lately," he mutters, which, oddly enough, makes her smile.

"Does it now?" Mary muses. "Something to pay attention to, then. I've learned that when such things seem to reoccur, there's usually reason."

So has he, actually. Len frowns as he watches her, thinking about the conversation he'd overheard.

"You want Hunter to recreate the Time Masters," he says suddenly. "That's what you're waiting for."

She doesn't even bat an eyelash. "Yes. They…something like them…are needed. And there are always children, like the ones here, who will need and suit such an avocation."

The woman before him seems to care for her charges, but knowing what'd recently become of some of them—at his own hand—makes Leonard uneasy with the matter. "You'd have him keep kidnapping kids to turn into…"

But Mary draws herself up and regards him, and her expression's intimidating enough that even Leonard Snart is silenced.

"Really, Mr. Snart? You can think of no reason, no reason at all, why a child might be willing, eager even, to be plucked from his or her life and brought here, where there is plentiful food and warmth, safety and learning?" She spreads her hands to indicate the Refuge, nodding at his expression. "Such it was with all the young ones here."

Lowering her hands, she smiles again. "Who knows? In another timeline, another world, you and your sister might have been Time Masters."

Now, that's a discomforting notion. Mary lets him struggle with it a moment, then shakes her head.

"But," she says, "you're needed where you are, being what you are. Someone who…pays attention. Who listens…" An arch look. "…and learns. And puts odd pieces together." With a sigh, she glances at the door through which her foster son had departed. "Michael thinks like a Time Master now. He probably always will. Dr. Palmer thinks like a scientist, as does Dr. Stein." A slight smirk. "And even Mr. Rory…he's a little more, well, 'out of the box,' as they say, but he's not a plotter, not a planner."

She takes a step closer to Leonard, who shifts uneasily under her steady gaze.

"You…now, you are," she says quietly. "Remember. Perhaps…perhaps they need someone who thinks like a thief. And Michael has apparently forgotten that. They need you."

Her smile, then, turns sad. "And in another timeline, you wouldn't even be here."

He does not like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

But Mary has turned away already, studying the shelves around them, the ones he'd been so intrigued by. "Do you know what these books are? Books and movies; I rather like the formats that let me keep them in physical copies rather than digital." She glances back at him, but barely waits for an answer. "They're stories. Tales of the myriad of ways human beings have conceived of and imagined traveling in and changing time. I keep them so the children know how their kind look at such things, about who knows? They may even get some good ideas."

Pausing, she runs a fingertip over some titles. " 'A Swiftly Tilting Planet,' " she reads. " 'Kindred.' 'The Doomsday Book.' 'The Time-Traveler's Wife.' "

Then, turning, she moves her hand to what appears to be a shelf in a bookcase full of Blu-ray discs. " 'Quantum Leap.' All the various Star Treks. 'Timeless.' 'Doctor Who.' " That one gets a certain mysterious smile, as she looks over her shoulder at him. "Ah. 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.' A fine film, in its quirky way. 'About Time.' 'It's a Wonderful Life.' "

Len's started to retort that that's not quite time travel when the woman lets her hand drop to her side and shakes her head.

" 'Strange, isn't it?'" she quotes, watching him. " 'Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around, he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?' "

The silence stretches…and Leonard, suddenly, fervently decides that he doesn't really want to know.

And it hasn't escaped his notice that Mary had said "how their kind."

"So," he drawls, straightening from his lean, "keep paying attention? I can do that."

Mary Xavier, smiling faintly, returns to her desk, taking a seat and watching him. "Excellent. I will see you and your cohorts at dinner. Do try not to get the children too riled up."

Leonard takes a step toward the door, then pauses. Glancing back and thinking, he then turns and walks quickly over to the bookshelf where Hunter had paused earlier. Where…ah.

Sliding the battered copy of "A Wrinkle in Time" from its place, he slips the book into his jacket and looks up.

Mary beams at him.

"Now, that, Mr. Snart," she says, sounding pleased, "is precisely what I was talking about."

Sara and Kendra are, Jax tells him, giving a group of small girls self-defense lessons out on the Refuge's lawn. Leonard strolls slowly toward then, unable to hide a smile as he sees Sara hunkered down and talking earnestly to a pale-haired mite who might have been her 25 years ago.

She sees him and grins as the kid runs off to the others, then makes a show of looking him up and down.

"You know," she tells him, "we're showing them how to take down a bigger opponent. Even a grown man. You'd make an excellent practice dummy."

Len winces. "Given that I have a pretty good idea how you're showing them to do that, I think I'll pass," he drawls, looking over her shoulder. "Kinda wish there'd been someone to show Lisa how to do that sort of thing. I taught her to fight dirty, but you could have taught her a lot better as a kid." He shrugs at the momentary sympathy in her eyes. "Having fun?"

"Yes, actually." She looks thoughtful, turning to follow his gaze. "This is something I could see myself doing someday. Owning a dojo, I mean, and teaching women and kids how to defend themselves. When time travel gets old. In the future."

…what the future might hold for me…and you…and…

"Yeah, I could see that in the future. Not for me. For you," he adds as she glances up at him. "I mean, you're good at it. Not that you're not good at time travel…I…"

Damn it, I sound like Allen…

"Leonard Snart, flustered. Cute." Len takes a step back and looks up to see Kendra watching them and tossing a staff from hand to hand. A smile hovers around her lips, and he's suddenly downright frightened of what she'll say, what insight she'll point out that he's not quite ready to acknowledge. He takes a quick breath, readying something snarky to cut her off, and…

There's a very distinctive brooch on Kendra's sweater, something unique that catches his eye not only because of that distinctiveness…but because he's seen it before.

"What's that?"

The dark-haired woman blinks at him, then looks down at her lapel and smiles, a fond and gentle expression.

"From my Secret Santa, apparently. It was in my room after I got breakfast this morning," she says. "It's appropriate, isn't it?"

"Very." There much be something off about his tone, because both women look at him a little suspiciously. Leonard takes a hasty step back. "Have fun with the little assassins. See you later."

He thinks he hears a giggle as he beats a hasty retreat. He doesn't stop to find out.

Mick is, completely unsurprisingly, in the kitchen. He is also, somewhat surprisingly, reading. And very surprisingly, wearing the reading glasses that no one else on the Waverider has ever seen. Len ducks his head to steal a look at the title of the book, then barks out a laugh. It's the second half of the Doyle Sherlock Holmes stories.

Mick rolls his eyes at his friend's amusement. "Yeah, yeah. You were right. They're good."

"Told you." Len reaches out and drags up a chair, turning it around backward and perching on it. "Maybe now you'll listen to me about..."

"Don' push yer luck."

Len lets it go. "Ol' Saint Nick get you that?"

"Nah. Found it in the library." He peers over the rims of his glasses. "You think they'd let me borrow it?"

"Was a day you'd just steal it."

"Nah. My luck, all the books in this creepy-ass place'd be cursed."

"Still," Len drawls, leaning back, "I see you made a really nice pick-up in Chicago."

After a moment, Mick peers at him again, then tucks a (clean, Len hopes) napkin in the book's pages and sits it down, leaning back himself. "Seemed right."

"Indeed."

"You got some sorta problem with it, Snart? Didn't get caught."

"Not at all. Like I said…new pick-up. Right from the coat belonging to Capone's mistress? Sweet." Len inspects his nails with studied thoughtfulness. "Carnelian scarab, enamel wings—hawk wings?-marcasite and glass. At an educated guess. Excellent example of the Egyptian Revival pieces of the 1920s."

At another long moment, Mick grunts. "Just thought it suited her."

"Oh, it does." Len tilts his head to the side. "What's going on there, Mick? You pick her in this Santa thing, or was it just a whim?"

"Oh, I did. But I'da taken it for her anyway." The bigger man eyes his friend. "What's it yer business, anyway?"

"Just curious. What's going on with you two?"

Unexpectedly, Mick snorts. "Why? What's goin' on with you and Blondie?"

It's unexpected, from that source, and Len recoils. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I…we're friends." There was a time he wouldn't have admitted to having anything so vulnerable as a "friend."

"Friend, eh? Well. So are we." He shrugs at Len's expression. "We talk."

"Seriously?" He barely knows Kendra, really. Of all the denizens of the Waverider, he probably knows her the least. After all the mess with Savage and the thing with Carter—and Raymond, for that matter-he'd been slightly nonplussed when she'd seen the so-called "Hawkman" settled in 2017 and come back to the Waverider, explaining that she needed to have a life—at least one-as something other than someone's mate.

Len respected that decision, although it'd led to some awkwardness on the ship, at least in the beginning. He's not a fan of Raymond, though he's come to grudgingly respect the man (not that he'll ever admit that out loud). They're too different. But Kendra's phrasing had made even him wince in sympathy. After a few weeks of puppy eyes around her, though, the inventor had apparently decided to be cheerfully upbeat about the whole thing, and if anyone suspected he felt otherwise, they allowed him the illusion.

"Yeah." Mick gives him a flat glare, then sighs. He looks, for a moment, like he's pondering his words, and that's rare enough that Len remains silent, letting him think.

After a moment, he nods to himself, then looks directly at his oldest friend.

"She gets it," he says finally. "Look, Snart. She gets somethin' you never will. Not 'cause you wouldn't try, not 'cause you're dumb or anything like that." His lips twitch as Leonard snorts.

"But…I got millennia in my head, Snart. And yeah, I know I don't talk about it much anymore. But…it happened. It's there, all those years. An' Kendra, she gets that. She's got 'em too."

He's silent while Leonard digests that, turning it over. Acknowledging its truth.

"OK," Len says, finally. "I get that. Best I can, anyway. Not that it's my business…"

"It ain't."

"…but…you two a thing? I mean…all that soulmate crap…and Raymond…"

That gets another snort from Mick, but this one's rueful.

"Don't know that it's like that," the big man says after a minute. "But if it is, if it goes there…it ain't some big, serious thing, like she had with Haircut. It's nothin' that's gotta end with broken hearts or dead bodies, like she was told. Might just be a bit of fun, an we'd keep it real quiet. Ain't nothin' wrong with that."

"True."

Mick eyes him a moment, then nods. "We good? Done with this?"

"Fine by me."

"OK, then. And you and Blondie?"

A pause. "Don't, Mick."

"Boss…"

"Don't."

The rest of their brief stay at the Refuge passes quickly. Len avoids Mary Xavier, but every time he hazards a quick glance her way, she's seemingly uninterested in him, talking earnestly with Rip or Raymond or, at one time, a wide smile on her face, Mick.

Still, he's the first one back on the Waverider, breathing a sigh of relief as he sets foot on the deck, and he breathes another sigh as they take off and enter the time stream. He feels Sara's eyes on him, considering, and even Mick's, but he doesn't comment. He wouldn't be sure what to say anyway.

Rip finds "A Wrinkle in Time," neatly wrapped, in his quarters the next morning, and scans his team's faces with an air of pleased bewilderment before settling in to read.

Over the next few days, Jax gets a sheaf of manuals and diagrams for various timeship varieties, and starts happily going through them and talking to Gideon about possible upgrades. Kendra requests, fervently, a few more bathrooms, and winks at Len when she sees him watching.

Raymond gets a Star Trek script signed by George Roddenberry—it's personalized, and Len eyes the only one on the ship who could have obtained that-and gleefully tries to drag everyone into a Star Trek marathon.

Mick gets a bottle of wine, a particularly fine cabernet, and Len laughs out loud when he realizes it's from Rip's collection. (Stein smirks at him.) Mick, not a wine person at all, is skeptical, but only until Stein, waxing eloquent about the vintage, pops the cork and pours them both a glass.

The wine in the collection starts disappearing faster after that.

And Len finds a package in his own room and, cautiously, unwraps it.

It takes him a moment to realize the rectangular item is a picture frame, folded so that the two photographs in it are face to face. He opens it, and stares in silence at what it contains.

Lisa. Age 9 or thereabouts, he'd guess, right about the age she'd been on the Waverider, when the Pilgrim had threatened and they'd been forced to rescue their loved ones, an event that'd been hard on everyone, but some more than others.

Jax and Raymond, he's pretty sure, had it the worst. But Lisa…she'd been so young, and still had so much, for better or for worse, ahead of her….

She's laughing, right out loud, in the left photo, an expression of joy that he can't remember seeing, ever. Captured on one of Gideon's cameras, so far as he can tell, no fear or trepidation in her face.

He has no photographs of her at that age; when he left the house on Hadley Avenue, he'd taken almost nothing with him, and he'd never gone back.

Correction: He'd gone back once.

The opposing photo is a larger, better copy of a tattered snapshot he'd had tucked in his desk, grown Lisa and grown Len, glancing at each other, their expressions showing, if not affection, than at least a form of camaraderie. Mick had taken it, almost by accident, trying to figure out how to use a camera they'd needed for a job, and Len had found it when developing the film.

Keeping it, bringing it, had been sentiment. Something that, until fairly recently, he'd tried to banish from his life.

Only two people besides himself have ever seen that photo.

"Gideon…"

"Yes, Mr. Snart."

"…never mind."

Notes:

1. Kendra’s brooch: 

https://www.langantiques.com/egyptian-revival-sterling-silver-scarab-brooch.html

2. Mary Xavier is totally a Time Lord. (Fight me.)

3. I’m SO tempted to write an AU in which the Snart siblings were taken to the Refuge when young!

[viktuurificwriters]

Cryingoverspilledvodka: Writes Angst like No Other

AO3

Tumblr

I enjoy reading slow burn fics with realistic conflicts and solutions, and when it comes to writing such fics, Cryingoverspilledvodka ( @victorsporosya ) is definitely one of the best. Her two multi-chaptered fics, Submerge and The Boyfriend Experience don’t unnecessarily drag the plot out too long nor do they have angst for the mere sake of having it. Every conflict presented is there for a purpose and every solution provided has been so far convincing and representative of how it would probably go in real life.

Submerge is about Yuuri and Viktor just getting together and still trying to figure out how to be in their relationship, while The Boyfriend Experience is an AU where Yuuri is an escort and Viktor happens to be one of his clients. Both fics have been well-received by the fandom–the former garnering 701 kudos and the latter, 3, 084 kudos as of date.

If you decide to check out those two fics, well, you’re gonna need a lot of vodka to dull the inevitable pain that comes with them.

Learn more about cryingoverspilledvodka under the cut.

Vodka-san is a 24-year old Irish born on the 20th of May. She’s a free-lance writer who also accepts commissions for writing magazine and local newspaper articles.

Her writing style varies, depending on the kind of story she’s writing. For structured AU narratives, with particular character roles to fill, particular plot points, and multiple chapters, she prefers to construct an outline first. The outline would include a timeline of the plot, brief exposition of the characters and explanations of why they’re in their roles.

As for writing oneshots, there is less of a process. Vodka-san simply takes a scene she thought of and writes it down right away, letting the rest of the story be written around it. She works either backwards or forwards, gauging if she wants the story to be of a particular genre and determining where she wants her characters to be in the end.

For TBE, Vodka-san wrote out the whole plan and then drafted the entire story. Some chapters were fully written out while others were sort of skimmed. She got the entire story relatively finished before publishing. Then she follows her plan and if the story develops from there, she changes it and let it or the characters grow as she goes.

Since she really loves AUs, Vodka-san’s ideas usually come from other media she watches. She would ask herself, “How would Viktuuri work in that situation?” The answers are what initially sparks her plots into life.

As for individual characterization and scenes, it is heavily influenced by what is Canon and also by her own experiences. When it comes to writing things like sex and anxiety, she draws from her own perception of what feels good, what doesn't, what helps, and others.

TBE, for example, is based on the concept of “The Girlfriend Experience,” which is a term used by upper-middle class escorts for a particular service, in which the escort bonds with and gets to know the client,  and wherein their appointment resembles a date more than just the sex. Sometimes even no sex.

“I've worked and interviewed sex workers in the past for a study in my degree,” shares Vodka-san. “But it was after I watched the Starz show ‘The Girlfriend Experience’ that I thought ‘I want to write a story about this.’”

The Boyfriend Experience is a loose AU of the show, but she says it was also influenced by other similar media, like Secret Diary of a Call Girl.

Unlike most sex worker AUs where escort!Yuuri is portrayed as someone hesitant with his job, TBE portrays Yuuri as someone who enjoys it.

[Warning: TBE Spoilers below]

In Chapter 12, when Viktor asked Yuuri to go out with him, I expected Yuuri to agree right away, just settle with Viktor, and be happy about it. But no, that was not the case. Instead, Viktor’s offer of going stable led Yuuri to panic and the two of them even got into an argument. I never expected Yuuri to consider continuing his job while dating Viktor; it was really different from what I’ve read before.

“I wanted TBE to be different from other sex-worker fics,” explains Vodka-san. “Yuuri is often cast as this unwilling participant in the profession, and while everyone is different and enjoys different kinds of characterization, but from my interviews with sex-workers, it was something they chose to do and did enjoy.”

Before publishing TBE, she browsed through other sex-work AUs, and felt that there was a general trend of Yuuri being in this bad situation and Victor was cast as this ‘white knight’ character to save Yuuri from it.

Vodka-san didn’t want a story like that. Following Yuuri’s characterization from the show, she wondered what a character like him would do if presented with the opportunity to be a sex worker right after his failure in the Sochi GPF.

“It's not so much Yuuri enjoys sex-work exclusively for what it is, but enjoys the control the job gives him,” she clarifies. “I also think he enjoys the anonymity being an escort gives him. All his successes and failures, his confidence–it's entirely reliant on something only he knows the truth of. There's a power there, I think, he enjoys, especially after the public humiliation he suffered in skating.”

And that's what really ties Yuuri with his reluctance to just give up escorting when Victor asked him out. It's not that he prefers escorting over being with the person he loves, it's that he's afraid to put his faith in something he can't control.

TBE definitely characterized Yuuri as a character who can take care of himself with or without Viktor, but not without the fears and anxiety that he also has to fight.

The Boyfriend Experience is partly what earned Vodka-san a spot as one of the writing icons in the fandom. Surprisingly, it is also through it that she met the person she considers her “whirlwind romance,” who is none other than author Lucycamui ( @lucycamui ).  Vodka-san and Lucy are quite known as a power pair in collaborating for Viktuuri oneshots that they even have their own ship name called “Lucyoverspilledvodka.”

Lucy left a very lovely comment on the seventh chapter of TBE and the two of them started talking back and forth in the comment section. It went on for so long and that was how they first exclusively spoke to each other.

“Lucy is the first author I got to know in the fandom,” says Vodka-san. “She was the one that sort of got me involved with the fandom in a more active way. She, of course, is so talented and knows everyone, so she was like my super popular friend who would bring me to all the parties.”

When Lucy got a Tumblr, Vodka-san followed her instantly and then they started talking through Tumblr’s private messaging system instead. It was during their conversations that their collaborations came to be. They started sharing stories about their lives and wondered what Viktuuri would do in a similar situation.

“Our writing sort of blossomed from there,” says Vodka-san. “I would write a piece in the PM, then she'd write the next piece. Then back and forth until we had a whole story.”

And now the two has authored several fics together, including Bottom’s Up and Cutting Silver.

Vodka-san says she also shares her TBE secrets with Lucy and talks over plot points with her. Lucy always helps her understand what she’s trying to do better and will always be honest with her if something doesn’t work

Aside from Lucy, Vodka-san also talks to other authors, such as Chessala ( @chessala ) and Reiya ( @kazliin )

She considers Chessala as her “fandom sister” and the two are quite close. Vodka-san shares things with her when she wants an honest opinion from the reader’s perspective. Chessala is also working on a translation of the fic and Vodka-san says she can think of no one better to trust the story to.

And together with Kazliin, Vodka-san discusses the motivations of their respective Viktors and Yuuris. They would share scenes back and forth with each other, trying to out-angst the other. Vodka-san says that working together with her has been really fun and that she’s been a great help to her.

It is always a blessing when a writer meets another writer whom they can talk to about their stories. They can help each other out and grow together. And that’s how it is for Vodka-san. She values being friends with other writers. She thinks it’s a common trap for aspiring writers to compare themselves to other writers.

“Looking at the stats, comparing the prose… It can be dangerous to let those thoughts of ‘I’m never going to be as good as...’ into your head,” says Vodka-san. “Because they're hard to shift. The second you start doing that, you stop writing for you. The person you should write for first and foremost, should be yourself.”

And she advises: “Writing is like anything, it requires practice. So just keep practicing. Write everything and anything that comes into your mind. Write every day, if you can.”

[sterlynwrites]

Re-work and Refocus

Hello to those who have just started following me, and hello to those who have been here since the beginning of time. I wanted to first thank you for sticking around and also for being interested in my writing. I know I don’t produce quickly at all, but I can promise that I have been working on things. 

Thus, the idea for this post came to light. I wanted to let you all know I am not dead, just merely changing the way I write so that it’s more enjoyable for everyone and puts less pressure on trying to keep up with things. What this means is any multi-chaptered stories I write will be posted only after they are 90% - 100% complete. 

This is so there is a guarantee that the story is finished, because I myself hate when a great story isn’t finished and sits there and just fades out. I don’t want this to happen with my work (Connections on Ice is enough pressure for that).

So, this is a post for me to keep up with things and also for you all to kind of have an idea of what I’m working on: 

Projects: 

Big Bang On Ice - Participating as a writer. This is a long commitment so you won’t see this Fic and the corresponding art until February, I think? 

Yuletide Gift Fic Exchange 2017 - This is something I have participated in for the last two years. This will not be YOI but I hope you guys enjoy whatever comes from it. 

Victuri Gift Exchange - This looks like it’s going to be a lot of fun so I am looking forward to doing something with this when the assignments come out. 

Fics I’m Currently Working On: 

BBOI Fic - I can’t give anymore information out on this right now, just know the project will probably end up being around the length of “To Melt the Snow and Mend a Heart.” I hope you look forward to it! 

Connections on Ice - So I know a lot of you guys are probably wondering what the heck is going on with Connections on Ice. Well, the simple answer is that it’s going through heavy revisions. This may just be to the grammar and flow, or I might end up doing it over completely. As most of you who found that story know I started it WAY before episode 10, which was a game changer. 

I thought I could keep going, but the more and more I worked on things and other stories, the more and more I realized that really, this story needs some cleaning up and TLC. I did it mostly without a beta and I want to clean up the chapters and refocus on things. So my beta and I are looking at the chapters and I’m going to start tweaking things. I’ll put the updates for that on here as it progresses. Once we catch up to where it is now, then I will continue on with the plot. 

Special Halloween Surprise - Yeah, I’m working quietly on this. Not many people know what it’s going to look like, but it will be YOI and it will hopefully be creepy. It will go up, predictably on October 31st if I am lucky. 

Vampire Yuuri Fic - A while back when my page was relatively new I was given some requests by some people. So this is one I need to fulfill (did you think I forgot, I promise I didn’t!) and so I had a poll and people voted on Vampire Yuuri. This will come at some point, but it is working. I promise @littleladykokomos

Voltron Legendary Defender - I have a Shiro and Lance story I’ve been wanting to write for a while, and I figure it would break up all the YOI that I’ve been doing, so this has some plotting going on.

Phichit / Yuuri Fic - This one is a War fic with Memory Loss, lots of UST and several other things thrown into the mix. It be more clear once I’ve gotten into it a little bit more. 

To Melt the Snow and Mend a Heart 2 (No Working Title) - This is going to be part two that was started in the Reversebang. It’s a fantasy AU that I didn’t want to let go of quite yet. 

There are others, but I figure these will serve as good teasers right now as the other stories are still in the running for being BBOI fics.